


Something Empty

by BarefootJourney



Category: Star Trek: Picard, Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/F, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:15:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 23,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23034604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarefootJourney/pseuds/BarefootJourney
Summary: Behind her, across the room..."Put the rifle down, Seven."That voice... a familiar tone in a foreign world.Her mind hummed and skin pricked. She dared her heart to leap or what was left of her soul to excitedly stumble forward from its cage. She would terminate herself immediately if they did.
Relationships: Icheb/Naomi Wildman, Icheb/Q Junior, Kathryn Janeway & Seven of Nine, Kathryn Janeway/Seven of Nine, Tom Paris/B'Elanna Torres
Comments: 122
Kudos: 169





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My mind has been blasting me with this for a couple weeks. I'm finally giving in and just writing it. It's not cohesive or exactly how I want it, but I hope by posting, it will make the muses settle down to a more cooperative level.

Behind her, across the room...  
"Put the rifle down, Seven." 

That voice... a familiar tone in a foreign world.   
Her mind hummed and skin pricked. She dared her heart to leap or what was left of her soul to excitedly stumble forward from its cage. She would terminate herself immediately if they did. 

She looked up at the ceiling, hoping to find a scrap of patience and self control among the relays and metal alloy. Finding none, she clenched her jaw instead to keep from jumping on the trigger. 

"Seven, put the rifle down." 

The voice trickled down her ears and thrummed in her bones. 

Seven spun, aiming at her target with precision.   
Not even the satisfaction of a flinch or flash of surprise as the object found itself suddenly in direct firing line of the rifle. 

Unarmed and nearly infirmed, yet unphased by the brutal violence filling the room.   
Chin set, chest up, eyes forward. A lifetime of training and experience in command left an indelible mark on every aspect of what could only be described as a soldier before her... 

"Janeway." She spat. The name tasted bitter.   
It caused the fire of anger in the former drone to snap and crackle, greedily consuming new fuel. Her lip curled into a snarl.

"You lost all rights to give me orders the day Voyager returned." 

****


	2. Chapter 2

The thin connection was dissipating rapidly.   
She didn't want to entertain the belief that Seven might be too far gone, that hope was only some stupid illusion.   
Not now.   
Not after all this time. 

Her heart leapt into her throat, insistent on being the first to speak. 

There had to be some weak point, a microscopic crevice in this angry armour through which she could gain entry to the frightened, wounded soul that she was certain, or rather, she hoped, lay cowering inside. 

This would be her only chance.   
Any mistakes would cost both of them everything. 

*Come on, Seven.*   
She pleaded to any and all universal gods, sending out a flashing thought to Q, even... she wouldn't mind his shenanigans right now.   
*Come on, just let me know you're still in there.... just one small peek out from wherever you're hiding... *

Janeway ambled backward until she hit the wall.   
The gaze that held her remained dull, rigid, lifeless.   
Her heart sank, and her body followed, sliding down to the dirty floor.

She winced as her back protested, immediately giving way to a barrage of self deprecating thoughts of being a ridiculous old woman in denial of her mortality on a stupid mission to nowhere. Maybe the jokes and rumours were true. Perhaps she was legitimately insane after all. Half the Federation had coined creative nicknames for her. 

She looked up to observe the empty vessel that once held something she loved in an ineffable way....   
Knowing full well that it was going to hurt. 

And it did. It filled her with a despair that was so complete, an emptiness that seemed to burn in her veins. 

Until.... 

*There!!!! *  
Her mind bounced and danced gleefully.   
*Right There! She's there!!!*

With enormous effort, Janeway forced herself to dampen the excitement and remain outwardly impassive. The odds are that it wouldn't last, or perhaps it was a fluke, or a death rattle. One last brilliant shimmer before she was gone forever. 

*Please, please please... *

Seven's eyes softened, the tiniest glimpse of a familiar light among the shadows.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Seven, give me the gun." 
> 
> Seven clutched it like it was her only lifeline. It made up everything she was now. She lived by it, for it. Weapons represented her mission, her sole reason for existing.

"You lied. You said you would never lie to me, but you succumbed to lying in order to be rid of me... you said I would never be alone, but you left me." 

"I didn't want to interfere with your new relationship!"  
She didn't want to say that seeing them together was painful and she was sparing herself the hurt as much as she was sparing Seven the confusion.

"Never once did I receive communication from you." 

"That's not true! I sent one every week for the first year. Chakotay told me that perhaps I was holding on too tightly and needed to let go." 

"And you listened to him? Having known me longer than him, spent more time with me, you thought you could defer the responsibility of being my handler to him because you thought he knew me better?" 

Janeway didn't have a counter argument and her only defense was that she didn't know where her head had run off to at the time. Regret had become her constant companion.

****

"Seven, give me the gun." 

Seven clutched it like it was her only lifeline. It made up everything she was now. She lived by it, for it. Weapons represented her mission, her sole reason for existing. She could never regain her humanity, she didn't even know what it was anymore. Elusive, perpetually out of reach, an impossible perfection taunting her. 

This was the second time Janeway was forcefully stripping away the younger woman's identity. 

That first time, in the brig, bright lights that exposed her, silence that consumed her and rampaged through her empty mind. The pain of her body rejecting what made her a drone, her sense of purpose and certainty. Her knowledge of belonging... She was lost. These strangers that took her... They were the enemy... 

Waves of fear and panic overwhelmed her, surrounded and crashed, dragging her under, tumbling disorienting intent on drowning her. 

Until... a beacon she tried to dismiss as a mirage. Small, insignificant, irrelevant. But unafraid. It stood strong against the invisible maelstrom she was a single breath from submitting to. 

Salt burned her face and lips. The brightness blurred. The beacon's red light that promised reprieve and sanctuary swirled with the rest of the storm. 

Nothing is safe. Nothing is real. One last flail to be satisfied that she fought, even if her efforts were insufficient. 

One swing with everything she had left. She missed.  
The beacon thrown about by the turbulence... only to be the very thing that caught her and brought her to the surface before she could be sucked away forever. 

Muscles ached and shivered from the exertion.  
Inflamed and strained lungs greedily pulled at the air.  
Stifled sobs wrenched from an irritated throat, unaccustomed to such use. 

The beacon steady and quiet. Soothing and promising, holding her afloat until she had the strength to make it on her own. 

Her hands trembled as her memory felt the ones that once lifted her above the surface in another life.

Now here she was, 2 decades later, drowning again, willingly throwing herself to the dangerous undertow. Accepting that this time she has sealed her fate and will sink, anchored to the bottom. It's where she belongs. It's what she is. A deadly weapon. A dark otherworldly creature. A thing. Not human. 

The beacon bobbed in her swimming vision. She would not be fooled this time. It is a ruse. 

It tried to capture her attention again. A Siren song. Luring her to a painful demise. Like Icheb.... 

The disturbing images coursed sharp grief through her.  
***  
The rifles lower, Janeway closes the distance and Seven crumples. The leaden weight of her anguish and vengeful vendetta yanking her to her knees.

Once again, the captain follows her, diving to the depths where despair lurks, waiting with cloaked sinister traps. 

A delicate, weathered hand rests firmly on top of Seven's cybernetic enhanced one, a finger still poised over the trigger. 

Janeway's other hand pressed, rubbing Seven's back.  
She hunched protectively over the woman being shredded by her past and present, staring to the abysmal void of her future.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But the monster she had become was uncaged now and she let it loose, intent on emotionally eviscerating her former captain. The older woman must be made aware of her responsibility in this.

****  
"C'mon, now. Let's get you off the floor." 

Seven's tears had ceased flowing, for now.  
But her anger and bitterness took advantage of the shallow waters and rose to the surface. They weren't done yet. 

"Get away from me."  
Her own heart hurt with what she was doing.  
But the monster she had become was uncaged now and she let it loose, intent on emotionally eviscerating her former captain. The older woman must be made aware of her responsibility in this. 

"I never want to see you again. You knew what was going on and you did nothing? You knew what Chakotay was like and you didn't stop him? You didn't even suggest that perhaps I wasn't doing the right thing? Why?" 

****

Seven charged toward her.  
And yet, she didn't move.  
I'll kill you.  
Her mind quoted the memory.  
But she still stood, unafraid, without the tiniest glimmer of doubt or apprehension in her eyes. 

The storm continued its trajectory, set on destruction, but something, some unknown flicker of recognition, caused her to veer off at the last possible moment. 

The violence had to go somewhere though, it was too massive to just dissipate.  
And so, it was channeled into nearly every inanimate object surrounding them. 

Janeway was relieved. Not at the obvious emotional suffering, but that display of control let her know that she wasn't too late. Her Seven was still there. Small, dying, suffocating under the sheer weight and magnitude of what she had endured in her lifetime, but there was hope. 

***  
And for the first time, amidst the flying debris, she cried for everything. For her parents not giving enough of a damn about her....for assimilation, for being forced to commit atrocities with no will of her own, doing the bidding of the collective, for what Chakotay put her through, for Janeway's abandonment, for Jay's betrayal, for Icheb's senseless, brutal and unnecessary death. 

She screamed and wailed and cursed whatever powers of the universe. She threw things and hit any object, solid or not, that dared to cross the tumultuous path of her destruction. 

Over and over the images flashed, the sounds blared. Icheb's agony, Chakotay's hot sticky skin, unanswered messages, pleas for guidance. Jay's promises of a life that could hardly be dreamed of, caresses and late lazy mornings that made her feel almost whole. They efficiently padded the jagged edges of her emptiness. The belief that she was worthy of love was just within reach. So close that she could taste it when she inhaled. Could feel it on her fingertips.....

..... but then the farce. It was only to use her. For being Borg. For being from the Delta Quadrant.  
Chakotay used her for her external appearance.  
Jay used her for her knowledge and connections.  
She was convinced that Janeway used her just to fill a temporary need to be a mother, or maybe just because she was bored.  
Everyone hated her, was afraid of her, or wanted to have sex with her. But nobody loved her.  
Chakotay had constantly suggested she have things removed. Implants and parts of herself that she never thought of as problematic before. She was fine before the surgery to alter the circuitry of the inhibitor. She didn't care about not being aroused. It wasn't something she thought was necessary to her existence.  
But he did. The Doctor did.  
The odd thing was... the surgery had no effect. So she thought she just needed practice.  
"Maybe if you have your abdominal implants removed, it will be more pleasurable for you." He had suggested, more for his benefit than hers.  
She endured that botched surgery, because perhaps he was correct and she would learn to like copulation if her cybernetic parts weren't a factor.  
He was the one who sent her to Bjayzl...he arranged it. One trick after another. One more brutal blow to her fragile and dwindling trust. 

She rode this anger, embraced it. A thrilling dangerous rollercoaster. It errupted with little warning... 

Out of control.... 

Brilliant white hot flash and high pitched whine exploding into nothingness.


	5. Chapter 5

When consciousness returned, soft hazy sensations vaguely alluded to the fact that she was curled like a child, being held. 

Briefly, the thought of shoving away and running snapped.  
But somewhere, her heart and soul beckoned and begged her to remain in this warm comfort for however long it lasted. 

As foggy tendrils of awareness started to infiltrate Seven's senses, Janeway made a motion to release her...  
But she realised that the older woman's embrace was the only thing keeping her together.  
"Don't let go. Please." 

Janeway's mind silently answered 'never again', but she responded to Seven's request with a snug squeeze.  
***

The air was sour, thick with accents of singed flesh, alcohol, and nihilistic debauchery. 

"Seven I need... I want you to come with me."  
"Where?"  
"Out of Federation Space."  
"But you're Starfleet."  
"A part of me will always be Starfleet. I love the Federation, I am proud of what it stands for at its core. I will fight to preserve Starfleet values and its legacy, but you, honey, you are more important to me than my job."  
"What I've done though.... I can never go back. There's a bounty on me. You're a target now." 

"I've been a target long before getting stranded in the Delta Quadrant. I've pissed off a lot of people and made an abundant amount of adversaries in my life. I have been in situations where there were no good or correct answers. I have made decisions that I am ashamed of. I'm still learning how to be human too, Seven. I think we all are." 

***

Their moment of the first real connection in 20 years was interrupted by a security guard careening around the corner, disruptor weapon charged and ready.


	6. Chapter 6

The security guard spun around the corner.  
Janeway pulled a small weapon out of her hip belt and fired. 

He appeared to freeze for a moment before hitting the ground. A few moments later, he disappeared in a transporter beam. 

Seven looked at Janeway expectantly, awaiting an explanation. 

"It is a new technology that Icheb and Naomi developed, with a little help from Harry. It has a similar concept to a wireless tazer, but with a few bonuses.  
Even if your aim isn't great, you need only point it broadly at a body, and that biosignature is translated to the ammunition, and it will seek out that target. Before making contact, it sends off an electronic pulse that renders the target stunned and temporarily paralysed. It then releases a few modified nanoprobes that transmit location and information directly to a monitoring device. So instead of security cameras and external tracking devices to catch someone committing a crime, that someone unknowingly becomes the security camera themselves and can be used to bring down entire rings and report illegal activity.  
And then, when their services are no longer required, the probes are remotely activated and they are transported to one of the resistance cubes to be assimilated and serve time doing something useful. Usually it's a lifetime. But it is so far the best solution we could come up with for these rogue factions...." 

"This is... brilliant." 

Seven recalled that Icheb had mentioned working on a secret project right before he was robbed of his existence, but she hadn't known it was something this creative.

"Starfleet does not know about it." 

****

Seven's skin had taken on a grey wash, and her breathing was shallow, erratic.  
Janeway recognised the signs of long overdue regeneration.

"When was the last time you regenerated?"  
"If you are referring to an alcove or a portable unit... it has been 13 years."

"How are you maintaining your systems?"  
"I assimilate just enough electricity to keep them from shutting down." 

"You assimilate electricity?"  
"Yes." 

To demonstrate, Seven activated the tubules and guided them to a nearby power outlet. The electricity crackled and surged up her arm, sparking over her visible implants. 

It was crude, painful, and probably more than a bit reckless, but she had stopped caring. 

The damage done from repeating this practice did not make it past Janeway's observant gaze. Fingers encircled Seven's wrist and pushed the sleeve up to reveal extensive scarring. 

*******  
"I don't understand. You have relatively easy access to regeneration alcoves, so why are you doing this?" 

Defensive anger began fortifying the space around Seven. 

"I am no longer compatible with common units."  
She should have known better. Janeway could see right through diversion tactics. 

"Why?" 

There was no quick play on words for why.  
The question triggered unbidden memories and she turned her face away, shame staining her skin. 

"Show me." 

Seven knew that Janeway could read her, but still, she had to give one last feeble attempt at keeping her secret. She shook her head and tried to make herself look taller, defiant. 

Dark blue eyes were not impressed. Instead, they just searched harder, looked deeper for clues that would finish the puzzle. 

"Show me." She repeated. 

Seven reluctantly turned around and lifted her shirt, revealing Bjayzl's handiwork. 

The spinal nodes had been carelessly and unskillfully removed, flesh torn away, exposing the Borg plating beneath.  
The abdominal implant was twisted and mangled, jutting painfully in a macabre fashion. 

The agony of the extraction and continued daily suffering this must cause ... Janeway felt it as if it resided in her own body, thrumming through her as a constant reminder of sinister malevolence and betrayal, of unworthiness. 

Instinct wanted to reach out and touch, as if her fingers could conduct magic and make it all go away.  
But common sense snagged the impulse before it could guide her hand to the damage.

She knew she was partly culpable in setting Seven on this path. 

Her heart wanted to reach out of her chest and swaddle the woman in an impenetrable protective shield, a cocoon against all of life's evils.  
******* 

Her bracelet chirped, letting her know that the ship was en route to Freecloud.

"Janeway to Side Quest, two to beam out." 

"There is some interference, but we will be within transporter range in 34 seconds. Be ready, it's gonna have to be a quick one. Grab n Go." 

"Where are we going?" Seven asked, apprehension evident.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is sort of short and a little bland but I wanted to have something up for you guys while I work on organising what has turned into a rather long adventure.   
> I have been filled with gratitude at the response to this, but I also feel a little nervous because I want to do right by you folks and the characters.   
> This chapter may be subject to undergo a smidge of editing.

They rematerialised in a transporter room. 

She watched, held fast by her own uncertainty, as confident command descended over Janeway, and the older woman stepped briskly off the transporter pad, head tipping in acknowledgement at the crewman who closed the controls and reset the security locks. 

Tal Celes. Seven recognised her. A nervous wayward bumbling ensign no longer, it seemed. 

Janeway turned, giving a look that inquired if Seven intended to follow her. 

The ex drone wondered what the hell she was doing here, following someone she had spent years harbouring contempt and hatred for. 

They were not okay. They weren't even on the outskirts of fine.   
A tattered fringe of civil, maybe. 

She wasn't even sure she *wanted* things between them to be alright again, despite what had transpired over the last two hours.   
It frightened her, how her body and soul just seemed to follow her former captain and friend of their own accord, without consulting her mind.  
It was almost more of a violation than the actual transgressions themselves.   
It was more dangerous, anyway.   
At least in the face of violence, she could shut herself off... when it came to Janeway, it forcefully coaxed her spirit to awaken and take part in life again. 

Seven stepped off the dais, and the odd feelings only swirled more intensely, but she couldn't identify them all. They seem to clash and collide and tumble over each other. Fear. Relief. Perhaps a twinge of happiness? Gratitude, uncertainty. Nostalgia. Homesickness while being home?   
It was like being nauseous and hungry at the same time. It was truly peculiar and more than slightly unsettling. 

As she approached the control panel, Celes spoke. 

"Hello, Seven, I'm glad.... I . Uh, you're back, but it's good. Well, not good but -- Oh nevermind! I don't know what to say that doesn't sound stupid because shitty things have happened, but I am glad to see you again, despite the aforementioned shitty things." 

It appears that her first assessment was in error, and nervous and bumbling were still part of Celes' personality, but she was good, honest, and while not the most mathematically gifted, she had been a trustworthy and candid member of Voyager's crew. 

Seven was going to leave her with just a nod, but then, decided to put forth her own awkward halting dialogue. 

"Thank you. You seem to be ... well. I am glad also, to see that wellness." 

The Bajoran gave a small smile, appreciative that Seven's words were just as out of place as hers, but effort was made to say them anyway.

Janeway still waited for Seven at the door, and they left the transporter room together. 

Seven took note of an extra threshold for a forcefield a metre from the doors. The added security measure piqued her interest, but she refrained from mentioning it. 

This vessel was rather large for a shuttle, yet seemed to be just under the size qualifications for a ship.   
Two decks and multiple rooms with supplies for missions anticipated to last longer than only a few days.   
Seven could recognise the style of Tom Paris anywhere. Sleek, efficient, with liberal touches of 20th century flair and hands-on features.   
And with a name like Side Quest, it could only have been designed by one small group of individuals. 

****

Seven trailed Janeway to the bridge.

Naomi sat assuredly at the helm, filling Tom's role with natural ease. He had taught her well, and she had hungrily assimilated the skill and information, becoming every bit the amazing pilot he is. 

Yet another individual she had not seen for over a decade, her long red hair braided, and pinned into an intricate updo... 

When the chair swiveled, Seven met her gaze.   
There was no forgiveness for what happened with Icheb. His death would always be between them. 

The vibrant little girl that was her friend, that excitedly lit up when Seven was around, the young woman that became a sassy, quick-witted, yet kind, Starfleet officer, looked back at her with eyes that made no attempt to hide the fact she was forever changed, haunted by the unfairness of losing a soulmate. 

Naomi didn't even make an attempt to toss an accusatory squint at the older woman she had once thought of as a big sister, a confidant. Family.   
It wasn't worth the energy, nothing would change. She tried fostering and maintaining their relationship, hoped their bond and their love for Icheb would help them cope and withstand the trauma. But...

Seven made her choices. 

She didn't hate her, she just didn't care anymore. Coldness and apathy filled the space formerly occupied by abundant warmth.

Naomi refocused her attention to Janeway and gave her the rundown of recent readings, pointing out scans and schedules. 

Seven noticed the position muscle memory had set her in. Feet at shoulder width, a hand clasping the opposing wrist behind her back, observing the room around her and waiting for instruction, ready at any moment to spring into action or protect her captain. 

She quickly altered the way she stood, but hated her peripheral vision for insisting on keeping Janeway in view.   
She sighed internally, attributing the unwanted practice to old habits, knowing that wasn't the case, but it was an easy benign excuse to slap on the spark of anxiety she felt. 

4 other crewmembers occupied the small bridge. Only 2 were Starfleet. 

Seven still had no idea what this was, or what Janeway's mission entailed or where the hell they were headed. 

"Seven..." Janeway's voice nudged her from her thoughts, gesturing that they should move. 

"It's going to be a while til we meet up with Voyager, why don't we go get some rest?" 

"Voyager? I thought it was permanently removed from the fleet." 

"She is." 

Seven was silent, awaiting further explanation. 

"Long story." Janeway waved the question away as they as they rounded a corner and entered a room that held some homey amenities. A sofa, a replicator, a small table. A media screen, a bed and a washroom.

"You just said we will be travelling a while, so I assume you've got the time to share it." She pressed.

"Why don't you get cleaned up first, huh?" Janeway was avoiding the subject. Though, in all honesty, Seven did look like crap. And not just from exhaustion. Her hair hung in greasy matted clumps, blood splatter from herself and other various species could be spotted from head to toe. Char, ash, and sweat combined to add an unpleasant olfactory element to her presence. 

"Very well." Seven clipped and went to the washroom. 

Janeway lowered herself to the couch, and hid her face in her hands, playing peekaboo with her emotions.   
"You've got her here, Katie, and don't know why or what to do next. Great job, moron." She muttered into her palms. 

Seven reemerged 20 minutes later, cleaner, but still knackered. She had washed her clothes, but the torn and singed jacket was beyond repair. She draped it over the back of a chair. 

"Sit. Take a load off." Janeway suggested from her spot on the couch. 

Slowly, Seven lowered herself to perch delicately on the arm of the far end. With an almost entire depletion of nanoprobes, the lack of proper regeneration and the lifestyle she led, injuries didn't repair themselves correctly, if at all, but she didn't want to let on how sore she actually was. She leaned into the pain, allowing it to punish her for her misdeeds. After a few moments, the sharpness gave way to a dull ache. 

"You want anything to drink?" Janeway's voice interrupted her self-flagelation.

"Whiskey." 

"No." 

"Rum?" 

"No alcohol or synthehol on away vessels." 

"Hot apple cider." She decided, begrudgingly.

Janeway quirks an eyebrow, then turned to the replicator, ordering her usual black coffee and a hot cider for Seven. 

She pushed the steaming mug toward her and Seven inhaled the combined scents, bristling at how comforting they were. The apple, the coffee, and Janeway herself. She almost wanted to throw the cup, anger and disgust ricocheted at smells that once signified happiness.

She and the captain were both still raw from the emotional battering they'd endured on Freecloud. 

She sipped the hot liquid, then,   
"So, are you going to tell me how Voyager is back in space, how you found me, where we are going and what you're doing?" 

Janeway stared at the coffee, hoping it would magically provide the answers for her. 

"I own Voyager now. I got a tip from Picard. And as for the other two, I can fill you in when we get there."   
Janeway winced. It was shit and she knew it. Seven wouldn't be satisfied with that answer. 

"Um, you showed up out of nowhere, basically kidnapped me and are taking me to a ship that was decommissioned twenty years ago. I think I deserve a little more information than that." 

A long swig of too-hot coffee burned down to her stomach and she gave a slow nod. 

"Alright."   
She pulled air into her lungs to start at the beginning, but before the first syllable rolled over her tongue, the comm system chirped. 

"Bridge to Janeway."   
"Go ahead, Naomi."   
"We are scheduled to hit our rendezvous coordinates in 4 hours but scans are showing some questionable activity 130,000 kilometers from here. Should I reroute?"   
"What kind of activity?"   
"The signatures are a bit muddied, but they seem consistent with the Rangers in this region."   
"How many ships?"   
"Twelve."


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a different scene between the last chapter and this one, but decided to toss it aside for now, because it wasn't quite fitting right. I may include it later, or rework the story so I can put it in the originally intended space, because I liked it for the action, but wasn't too sure about the subjects.  
> I've never written something this long before, so I apologise for the clunky feel to it.   
> If anyone wants to be a subject of experimentation... or my beta for this story.... lemme know!   
> The next chapter contains more J/7 and their navigation of trying to find a way back to what they used to be. Promise.

Under Seven's assurance that it was just a small restock and repair station, they remained on course, though Seven struggled with the decision. 

Janeway berated herself, how dare she assume that they would get a happily ever after just because she circumvented Seven's suicidal revenge mission... just because they'd shared one single moment of clarity and connection in 2 decades.   
She closed off her heart before stabbing herself through it with her next offer.

"Hey, do you want... do you want us to drop you off there?" 

Baffled, Seven's eyes widened. She was being given a choice? Janeway was just going to let her go back to the life she had been leading?   
She didn't know what to say. Either option had uncertain outcomes. 

If she were to leave Janeway, she could pretend like the entire day's events never happened and go on, being a phaser for hire, working with people that she held at a light year's length away, scoffing at anyone who brought up the idea of friendship and family. They were all just pissed off individuals with their own vendettas. What had started as a tribe with a common goal was now dissolving into tiny rogue factions spewing rhetoric that were using violence for the sake of violence, just because it felt good and was cathartic for a few minutes. She was guilty of it herself. Using the cover of justice and helping people for an adrenaline rush. The Fenris Rangers certainly weren't altruistic, but they got shit done and had been good enough for the past few years.

But the option of remaining and continuing on with Janeway...   
It didn't seem to hold anything any more enticing. It wasn't going to be the same. It was going to be difficult and alienating and it was going to hurt. It was going to remind her of everything she had lost and would never get back.   
She was going to have to deal with her mind playing tricks, cruelly teasing her, making her think Icheb was going to be behind her or page her asking to work on something together. 

Icheb.... Icheb would want her to stay. He would have an argument that would be persuasive heavy enough to outweigh the thought of going back to the Rangers. He had loved everyone on board Voyager and the feelings were mutual.   
A true selfless and genuine individual. Good. He was a rare good person. 

// "Stay, Seven." // she could almost hear his voice, vibrating in her ears, could almost feel his contagious enthusiastic presence, and she breathed it in. 

Her decision was made, though she still felt the rough tangled tugging of doubt. She told herself it would only be temporary, brief. She would go back later. 

"No. I would like to stay. Please." 

Janeway had to wrestle her heart back behind her rib cage, and grab the station next to her to steady herself from the shockwave of surprise. 

"Well Alright. Naomi, increase speed. Warp 6."

Naomi swung around from the conn and gave a quick half-hidden grin over her shoulder. 

Maybe hope did exist after all...


	9. Chapter 9

*******

Out of habit, Seven started heading for the cargo bay. 

"Where are you going?" 

The voice pulled her out of auto pilot.   
"Oh. I. Where should I stay for the night?" 

A tiny grin flitted across Janeway's lips.   
"Come with me." 

*** 

The room was off the captain's quarters. Spacious, personal, private.   
There was a portable regeneration alcove, a bed, and seemed to be customised to her style and needs. 

"How did you know?"   
"I didn't. I hoped. Despite people telling me it was futile and a waste of time and resources, I hoped. I dreamed." 

Looking around the space, Seven felt a distant tingle of hope herself and had to catch her mind as it started running off down the path of daydreams, showing her pictures of her living here long term, being part of this crew, having purpose, nightly discussions with her captain, giving her feelings of warmth and belonging. 

"Thank you." She managed to say through the wistful images. 

Paranoia lurked behind them, though. Oozing its taunts and horrific what-if scenarios, spilling into her consciousness from the dark recesses of her mind. Looking for clues of traps and manipulation, mercilessly ripping into that small dim ember of hope.

This couldn't be possible, couldnt be real. It feels too good. Too... perfect. It's a nightmare that will eventually show its true nature. What had she done? What lie did she tell herself that led to this stupid decision to come here? The terror squeezed and froze her lungs. 

Janeway watched the shadows fall over Seven's face and rested a hand on the younger woman's arm. 

The touch was soothing externally, the same touch that she just leaned into and sought out earlier that day, but now, in this moment, it shot a counter reaction of scorching pain that flashed through Seven and she ducked away, putting distance between herself and the cause of her discomfort. 

"Stop! Stop doing that!"   
"Doing what?"   
"Touching me, acting like things are okay. They aren't."   
"I know." 

Shallow breaths traveled rapidly through Seven's nose and her skin had turned ashen. 

"Janeway to Sick Bay."  
"Doctor here."   
"Doctor, do you currently have anyone there?"   
"Aside from myself, no. Why?"   
"I'm bringing Seven in." 

Blonde hair clung to a pale forehead as an angry protest was made.   
"I don't need --"   
"Yes you do, Seven. You went from just tired and overwhelmed to a feverish word slurring mess in minutes. You're going."


	10. Chapter 10

The adrenaline that surged at the prospect of being in a medical setting, familiar or not, supplied the ex drone with a small burst of energy as they stepped through the doors to Sick Bay. 

"Ah! Seven! Lovely to see you again. Aside from a demanding, irate Janeway, what brings you in today?" 

"I'm fine."

Janeway leveled a glare at her. "Seven.." 

"I'm fine." 

"No. Now." 

"It is fine for now." 

"Doctor erect a forcefield and confine her to sick bay until she complies with treatment." 

"Treatment for what?" The Doctor was wildly puzzled. 

"Seven. Show him." 

"No." 

"Seven...." she crooked her finger to lure her closer, as if she was going to whisper secretly.   
The deception worked and she swiftly grabbed the hem of Seven's sweater, tugging it upward to reveal Bjayzl's damage. 

The Doctor was speechless. A rare event for him.   
But his moment of silence was quickly made up for by a torrent of ... 

"Why can't you ever bring me anything normal? You know, a little scrape on the knee or a small phaser burn. A couple cases of space sickness or perhaps if you are feeling spicy, a Neelix concoction gone awry? 30 years and i still think you are capable of a simple stuffy nose." Without missing a beat, in the same holographic breath, he switched his tirade from the captain to his new patient. "Seven, how are you even regenerating?" 

Janeway glared and Seven rolled up her sleeve. The ex Borg was still pissed, but knew her captain was ready and able to match her in a battle of willpower at the present moment. 

"It has been sufficient for 13 years." 

The Doctor took a closer inspection of the proud flesh and angry scarring along her forearm.   
"Sufficient at causing permanent lasting damage to both your biologic and cybernetic components. I can't do anything about your back or abdominal implants tonight. I'll need to pull up the specifications in the database for the parts that will require replacement. And you will need to either wear dermaplastic grafts or a vest made of the same material as your old biosuit for a few weeks until there is enough skin regeneration. I should be ready to perform your surgery tomorrow evening. "

Seven just nodded, numbly, then stood, a wave of lethargy crashing over her.   
Grateful for the bio bed, it helped steady her sudden dizzy sway. 

"Seven?" The Doctor queried. 

"It's fine. I'm just.. tired." She replied, perturbed by the enormous effort it took to prevent her words from slurring. 

The tricorder passed around her, and as if in a tunnel, she could hear the distant beeping of its readings echo. 

She fought the darkness that consumed the corners of her vision. The captain's hand came to encircle her arm, ready to provide counter balance.   
"Easy. Lie back down." 

//No. No. I can't. //

"Mmmrrmph." The ex drone's weak protest as her body was powering down. 

Breathing became a conscious effort, she panicked at the heaviness of her chest, sapping even more of her already depleted energy.  
Her head lolled forward and her shoulders slumped. 

Janeway and the Doctor both caught her and guided her onto to the bed. 

Dark blue eyes searched his features.   
"Well...?" 

"I'm going to replicate some nanoprobes and give her a dose. She's going to need an injection every couple hours to maintain basic system function until I can repair that damage tomorrow."


	11. Chapter 11

****  
"You'll need to remain here for the night so I can monitor you." 

"I'm not staying here. Let me go back to my quarters." 

"That's not advisable."

"So? It's my choice, correct?"

"Why are you resisting help?" 

"Because I don't deserve ..."  
// because I'm a monster, because I failed saving Icheb, because...//

The sterile environment filled with the filthiest of memories. 

Bjayzl's sinister giggle as Seven lay willing and malleable under her, in a lustful haze, oblivious to what Icheb was enduring at that exact moment...

"Aaaaarrrghaa!" Seven growled, flung herself off the bio bed and staggered to the nearest acceptable source of power, gripping the ledge of the desk with shaking fingers. 

"Seven, No!" Janeway called, a vain attempt at stopping the inevitable as tubules sank into their target and power crackled up the implants, even sparking around Seven's eye. 

The Doctor cringed. 

"There. I'm fine for the evening. I'll see you tomorrow, Doctor."  
Seven abruptly turned and strode out of the room. 

****  
She was alone, confronted once again by her menacing thoughts. They gleefully emptied her of anything good and solid, hope was in exile here, an unwelcome guest at a party of ghosts. 

// I should not have come here. I should not be here. I should have known this wasn't going to work. // 

She flexed her hand, the implants pulling against freshly burned and blistered skin. 

Who was she to be given the right to live when Icheb had his stripped away?  
She was evil. She did terrible things. He had never been anything but exemplary. 

Janeway hadn't bothered to push her further, she had simply called good night through the door between them. Seven replied with silence.

Seven wondered if it was a sign that Janeway was already giving up, that she'd accepted the reality this wasn't going to be what she thought it would. 

//Good.// the mask she wore said.  
//I'm sorry.// the newly awakened spark of who she used to be whispered. 

She curled on a corner of the bed, knowing sleep would not be so merciful as to allow her mind entry into unconscious bliss. 

****  
A room away, the ex captain ran her fingers through greying hair. 

"What am I doing?" She inquired to a photo of her, Phoebe, and her mother, taken on the 1 year anniversary of Voyager's return. Seven and Chakotay hadn't shown up and the disappointment led to her chewing out Tal Celes' aunt.  
Who probably... definitely... deserved every ounce of that verbal flogging, but it wasn't like her to lose her temper, especially at a Federation event. 

That was the day the tiny void bouncing around in her soul found a permanent spot to latch on and grow, sucking and demolishing all the light that had made her life one worth sticking around for. 

She'd been responsible for so many deaths, so much destruction and pain. 

Chakotay told her they planned on attending, and the thought of seeing Seven again got her through the few months leading up to the reunion. 

It was going to feel so good, she had told herself, to stand next to Seven and let her heart be filled like it used to. 

Halfway through the day, she received a comm that something else came up and something about his sister and a baby... but the details were overtaken by the crushing weight of "not coming". It shouldn't have impacted her that way, shouldn't have held such significance. It felt juvenile, immature, to be devastated. Chakotay took Seven away. And he had done it out of selfish spite. She fought with herself to let go of the bitter accusatory feeling. But her jealousy was unrelenting in its honest opinion of her loss. 

Seven never replied to her messages. She knew now that she never received them, but that fractured the remnants of what held her resolve and hope together.  
She stopped trying. It was over and she needed to stop clinging to the stupid emotional umbilical that attached to nothing. 

The photo offered no answer or guidance, just the memory of loss and longing. 

Sleep would be an elusive luxury, leaving her instead to ruminate over the next day's plans and stare into the faces of her own past demons, debating and weakly defending the decisions she's made.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is truly the first story I've tried to make longer than just a handful of chapters or collection of drabbled scenes. Feedback, questions, and criticisms are greatly appreciated -- *all* of them.   
> Especially since I have enormous doubts on whether I'm rushing to post and sacrificing quality in exchange for consistent updates. 
> 
> I do take writing for these characters seriously and want to produce good stories and adventures for you. 
> 
> A big thank you to everyone who has given this a chance so far and has taken time to leave kudos or comment.

**

The hypospray.  
It should have been an innocuous little thing. Normal. Insignificant.  
But not now. 

The memories were still raw and the sight of it poised in the air scraped against those wounds. 

** 

"I'll stay right beside you the entire time." 

Seven hated the fact that she was acting like a frightened child. She hated even more that the temptation to give into the coddling was irresistible at this moment.  
She nodded. 

The Doctor raised the hypospray again.

"I can't! I'm sorry. I can't!"  
Seven launched herself off the table, fear bolstering her readiness to fight. 

Janeway exchanged a look with the Doctor and he set the anesthetic down, leaving to go find busywork in the office. 

"Seven, you need to do this. The Doctor said if you don't repair the regeneration components, you're looking at a year, maybe two, of continuing like this, then you will die." 

"I..." 

Janeway knew the missing words were 'don't care'.  
"I do." 

Red-rimmed eyes skimmed the floor, trying to find something more interesting, or at least, less painful, to hold her attention.

"Seven, I don't blame you for the barriers you have erected against me. It hurts, but I understand it and I have no right to ask you for your trust. What we once had isn't there anymore. Our friendship, the strength of our unique inexplicable bond... it's been destroyed."  
//And wading through the rubble may never result in finding and rebuilding it, // she reminded herself. 

"Perhaps the only thing that survived is the tiniest hint of lo--" she caught herself, "of the bond that pulls us together. Or maybe I'm just projecting my errant hope over both of us and even that connection is a total and complete loss... but I.... I miss you, Seven."

The air between them was stagnant and heavy. 

Robotically, Seven walked back over to the bio bed, and after a brief hesitation, sat on it, picking up the hypospray and fiddling with her fear.  
"You're not." She said. 

"Hmm?" 

"Projecting. I believe you are correct and a small amount of that bond still remains intact."  
Making a decision, she pressed the hypospray to her own neck and immediately was overwhelmed with its drowsy effects. 

The room warped and faded. She could feel Janeway's steady grip, guiding her head gently to the pillow. 

Panic tried to push her out of her nearly paralysed state, burning her scalp, attempting to force open her eyes, but was unsuccessful.  
"Captain...." her drugged mind called out feebly. 

She was reminded of the vinculum incident, the terrified voice that, upon regaining lucidity, searched for her and asked 'captain, why am I here?'

"I'm right here, Seven, I'm not going anywhere. Go to sleep, I'll see you when you wake up." 

Another small whimper from the sedated ex drone tugged at Janeway's heart. 

"Shh, it's alright." She breathed. 

The older woman motioned for the Doctor to return. 

"Is there anything you know that I should be aware of before I proceed?"


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the delay. It has been a busy few days of farm work and work-work. The next 2 chapters are mostly technobabble surgery stuff that was written in rushed increments between clearing brush, stacking wood, and lighting things on fire. The story will pick back up with action, angst, and perhaps some humorous fluff after these couple installments.  
> I cannot eloquently express my gratitude for everyone who is following this journey with me and has encouraged the continuation of writing adventures. Thank you thank you thank you. Y'all personify the spirit of Trek.
> 
> All mistakes are mine and I tried not to get too nerdy with the science speak, and make it accessible to normal folks, but sometimes I can't help myself. I took out a huge chunk of it that wasn't super relevant to the story but my brain gets overexcited with fascination and we delve down a rabbit hole with no ending. I can post that part in the comments if there is interest.

The Doctor looked at Janeway grimly as he began to assess the full extent of the damage. 

It wasn't just that components were missing... there was so much of Seven that was still Borg. It had merged and meshed with her biologic systems.  
There was no definitive distinction between her human muscle tissue, nerves and Borg technology. It was woven into the very fabric and fibre of what made Seven...well, Seven. 

Her back muscles glinted green and grey under the lights of the surgical bay, appearing more like a suit of armour than human flesh. 

Thin flexible plates covered portions of her spine and where the exoplating once connected when she was a drone. 

The spinal node ports that would lock in with an alcove and allow her to regenerate were bent, melted, seemingly irreparable, and the doctor said as much. 

"If you look at these here, the microcircuitry of the terminals has been exposed to an acid that turned it into a congealed mess. It is as if someone were trying a crude version of cybernetic cauterization. I don't know if I will be able to make sense of it all, return their functionality and connect them to a new node that will allow them to convert power from the alcove into usable energy for her body." 

Janeway brushed her knuckles gently over Seven's cheek.  
"What would that mean for her?" 

"All of her systems depend on this. Human *and* Borg. It will be the same bleak prognosis as before. If she can't regenerate or I can't create something to take the place of her spinal nodes should this surgery fail, she has maybe a year left before her body is just... unable to adapt and continue functioning." 

His predictions pelted her with an outcome she didn't want to entertain. She sighed, trying to loosen the grip that hopeless despair was getting on her chest. 

"What about the genetic resequencing that Icheb used to be able to survive without a cortical node?" 

The Doctor shook his head.  
"It was one of my first thoughts. It worked for him because his time with the Collective was minimal. He hadn't even finished the typical duration in a maturation chamber or developed a thoracic assembly. Unless we discover some unforeseen technique or procedure, Seven will be reliant on the Borg technology for the rest of her life. It is a part of her, Captain." 

"I know, and I've never thought anything different. It was you and Chakotay that encouraged the removal of as many implants as possible. I just wanted her to live." She snapped, with more bite than intended.  
"I'm sorry, Doctor. I just... I can't lose her." 

The Doctor felt remorse for what he'd done, the misguided direction he took pursuing Seven's endeavour to become more human, thinking he was doing something good. He could blame his subroutines, but knew it was an easy cop out. That was a justified excuse with the events on board the Equinox, when his program had been externally altered, but not after, when security protocols were put in place to prevent tampering.  
He had done it because he wanted to, because that was his idea of success... increasing his abilities in medical science, not asking Seven if it's what she wanted, not offering other options. He considered her to be family, a valued member of his clan, and should not have looked at her recovery as a way to add credit to his name and program. It didn't start off that way, but certainly morphed to include more and more elements of that motivation as she progressed. It was ironic, though, being a hologram that once held a torch for an ex Borg, for him to measure achievement by how many technological components he could remove from her body, how close to a perfect human he could make her. 

Chakotay held a fair amount of the blame, too. And this Bjayzl person... she should probably be buried under most of it. 

*******  
"Captain, I know you wanted to allow Seven confidentiality in this, but I'm going to need assistance." 

"Sure, what do you need me to do?" She lifted her head from its bowed position. Half-dozing, half worry-induced prayer.

"No, not you. Even if you did possess the specialised knowledge and skill, you're emotional, you haven't slept and your performance would be compromised." He pointed out her trembling hands. 

"Before they go back home, Tom and B'Elanna are on rotation here, I could use both of them." He requested. 

****


	14. Chapter 14

****

"What the..." trailed softly from Tom. 

B'Elanna's initial reaction was a growled torrent of Klingon expletives, followed by a disbelieving whispered "How?" 

While the Doctor took Tom aside and filled him in on the biologic readings, B'Elanna inspected the anesthetised disaster on the bio bed and couldn't stop herself from running her fingers over the cybernetic carnage. 

"I'm sorry, Captain. I wish... I'd... I don't know what to say."   
B'Elanna and Seven had formed a close friendship during Voyager's final year in the Delta Quadrant. Surprising, given the barely civil animosity that permeated the air around them in the early days. 

The engineer extracted herself from emotions and focused her attention to the viciously mangled portion of the abdominal implant that had been torn through the skin and lifted about 4 centimetres above her hip.   
"I can probably start with that, and then move on to the stuff that's gonna make my brain bleed." 

**** 

The 3 of them were successful with the restoration of the abdominal implant, and after a quick break, B'Elanna continued her analysis to decide how to best approach the next step. 

Her face a concentrated scowl as she passed the tricorder over Seven. 

"Because of the damage here," she pointed to 3 of the vertebrae, "and here", 2 more further down, "it has created short circuits. This is a hell of a bigger job than just replacing a few missing pieces. The entire array is going to need to be disassembled and rebuilt." 

She paused, and shifted away, vascillating between wanting to know the answer or just plodding along through the war zone on the table.  
"I suppose I should have asked this before, but how the hell has she remained operational? 13 years without regeneration is pretty much impossible. The amount of power required to run and maintain a complex system like this is astronomically higher than food can provide." 

"Assimilation of electricity."   
"What?"   
Janeway pointed out the arm. 

"That explains a lot."   
"Hmm?" 

"She's blown out 85% of her system doing that."

It was redundant information, but still left Janeway absorbing the blow of a punch to the gut. 

"Anything we can actually do about it?"   
"Maybe? But I will need time to think of something. Replacing the spinal assembly won't be enough if there is no circuitry for the power and electrical signals to actually move through. And I don't even know how we are going to accomplish that!"

"What about Voyager?" Tom supplied.   
"What about it?"   
"We need to be able to create a system that can capture and store energy and release it as electricity in a biologic and cybernetic environment. One of the biggest obstacles we have in recreating a compatible network is the chemicals and medium that are able to make decisions, adapt, facilitate designated tasks, and carry the electrical charge between the terminals. Combined with a thin film polymer, would we be able to modify and reprogram some of Voyager's gelpacks and bioneural circuitry for that purpose?" 

B'Elanna grinned. "This is why I keep you around, Tom, even if you do eat cereal in bed and insist on collecting dolls and picture books, sometimes you're useful." 

"Action figures and graphic novels," he corrected. 

"We've been married for 24 years and I still haven't acquiesced to your preferred terminology. I'm not gonna start now." She returned to the source of their conundrum. "So, Doctor? The gel packs. Think they'll work?" 

He shrugged. "Its the best option we've come up with thus far. The gel packs are essentially an electrolyte. But I can't keep her under too much longer. I'd hate to break this up into multiple procedures, but we will get as far as we can today."

****  
14 hours and 328 frustrated sighs, groans, and outbursts later, Seven had 2 brand new spinal nodes, the others would have to wait.   
Most of the rest of the damage, including her left arm, was also repaired.   
B'Elanna created a vest out of the biosuit material, but with an added benefit of it also being a rechargeable battery pack that could boost the efficiency and productivity of the minimal nodes until they were able to complete the remaining repairs.

Janeway had fallen asleep, twisted and awkward, but refusing to let go of Seven's hand despite the valiant prompting of the other officers. 

Tom slid down the wall, and sat on the floor with an exhausted thud. B'Elanna put the last of her tools away and joined him, tucking herself in and resting her head on his shoulder, linking her fingers with his. 

Even the Doctor appeared drained, though it was not part of his program to become tired. 

He dimmed the lights and retired to his office.


	15. Chapter 15

_Submerged in a smokey haze, her legs kicked and arms flailed, propelling her to… nowhere. Panicked hysteria scurried under her skin, tickled her lungs._   
_Directionless, she whipped around, searching for clues that would guide her back to the path._   
_Except there was no path. Vast darkness, sparsely littered with hidden obstacles, she was trapped in a wide open expansive maze. No meaning, no sense. She couldn’t discern if she was walking, swimming, floating, or falling._   
_Unable to speak, the questions echoed in her mind, screaming for a response, for even the smallest of signs._   
_Cold, wet air burned her nose and throat as it wheezed and whistled, denied entry to her chest._   
_“Please,” it whispered as it rolled back over her tongue in retreat._

_An awareness of being pursued rushed at her, blasting her with a further need to escape. The invisible foe was advancing quickly, but remained cloaked. A slick, hot substance oozed down her neck and spread into her back, infusing her nerves with liquid fire._   
_The enemy grasped her, encircled her with a sinister embrace, and without words, it begged and cajoled an invitation to join it, clawing with a demanding grip when her frozen silence was taken as refusal._   
_This eternal pit of despair seemed to mock her, pushing ominous imperious laughter that vibrated inside of her._   
_An incoherent voice rumbled. Familiar. Foreboding._   
_She couldn’t let it catch her._   
_The emptiness slammed into her. It wanted her._   
_She stared into the void that could, and would, rule out her tomorrows, her choices. Any decision she made would drag her right back here._   
_She thrashed against it._   
_The first pull as it began consuming and draining what precious remnants of herself she had managed to protect._   
_It wanted her to give up._   
_No. She shivered. No._   
_Cries for help were being swallowed before they could even leave her lips._   
_She plunged deeper into the abyss, not wanting to believe that she had been forsaken._

Something safe had found her, the fuzzy light and colour lending her to think this being was non corporeal. Perhaps this was a hallucination, a figment her mind created out of pity, though she could feel its weight settle beside her. Odd.   
Stranger still, she recognised this blurry faceless entity. 

“Why did you let me go with him? Why did you let him take me?”


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please be aware that the end of this chapter includes a lightly depicted scene of sex used in an unhealthy self destructive manner, if this is a sensitive subject for anyone, you may stop reading right before this mark: ((***))

A false sense of temporary peace blanketed the captain’s quarters.  
Janeway had convinced the Doctor that after the initial observation period post-surgery, Seven would probably do best waking up *out* of sick bay.   
In the interest of keeping her as quiet as possible, the EMH opted to not administer the immediate reversal drug, and instead, let the anesthesia taper off slowly.

Tom settled Seven onto the captain’s bed, as he placed her gently and arranged her heavy, limp body into what he hoped would be a comfortable position, he took a moment to wonder how their lives had come to this. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. 

*******  
A good book and a hot cup of strong coffee could soothe the effects of a lot of evils in the world, but not this time.

She was seeing words and turning pages, but the activity was being performed exclusively on autopilot. Her mind alternated between pretending to understand written language, shooting fretful glances over to the unconscious occupant of her bed, and once again, scolding herself for not knowing what she’s doing or why she’s doing it. 

Realistically she knew this mission wasn’t going to be easy. But her plans for ‘this mission’ didn’t go even a minute past finding and meeting up with Seven. There was no mission any longer.

She knew she fucked up 20 years ago and had no right to this broken woman, when she, herself, was also a fractured individual. The abandonment had blown their trust and relationship into unrecognizable, and likely unsalvageable bits. 

Acknowledging all of that, a small stupid part of her almost expected their reunion to be surprised shock, followed by stumbling over themselves excitedly in their rush to fulfill a long overdue embrace. 

…. And then what?  
What was the plan?  
Fly happily ever after back to the Delta Quadrant?

The contents of the mug she gripped had reached an unpalatable level of tepid an hour before.

Stifled attempts to breathe, and a few pained whimpers from across the room jostled Janeway out of her self pitying thoughts. 

She was across the room in seconds, sinking to perch on the bed beside the woman who appeared to be trying to escape an adversary in a terrible unknown realm. 

She placed her hand with a delicate firmness around Seven’s arm.   
“It’s alright, I’m here.”

_Something grasped her, but it felt warm, trustworthy. It was her only lifeline in this never ending hell, so she followed it. Buzzing caressed her ears, until she realised they were husked, comforting words. “Here,” was all her mind was able to translate._

_Her eyes couldn’t focus, but she distantly knew who the figure next to her was. Not her name, nor her face, only her significance._

The thoughts were still murky and she was hardly cognizant of what she was saying.

“Why did you let me go with him? Why did you let him take me?”

It wasn’t what she would have bet on being the first thing Seven spoke upon waking, if Seven was, in fact, actually awake and not just being flung about by anesthetic delirium.

When Janeway didn’t respond, the question came again, followed by another small, barely perceptible, “why?”

It deserved an answer…. If she had one. It was a question she asked herself almost daily. 

“Why?” Painful bewildered betrayal laced through the word and glistened in an only half-seeing gaze. 

Unexpected emotion surged and flooded her. Her voice strained against it as it forced itself into her eyes.   
“I don’t know, Seven. I really don’t.” 

It was the truth. She didn’t know. She had asked herself that same question every which way imaginable and couldn’t come up with a complete enough answer for the reason behind not acting when everything in her gut told her that she must.   
They hadn’t discussed any definite or even tentative plans for where Seven would go if and when they got back to Earth. It seemed like such a far off, and some days, far-fetched, occurrence, and Seven had become such an enormous part of her daily life on Voyager, that Janeway just assumed and dreamt it would transfer to their destination, that it would always be that way and she found comfort in it. She’d allowed herself to accept that notion as reality. It just… was. 

When something different came to pass, she was rattled, and chastised herself for being that far in her own damned head. 

“Why?” She murmured again. 

“I don’t know, Seven. I was so tired.”

“I thought you didn’t want me. 

The tiny voice combined with the honest statement was a powerful weapon that knocked the air from Janeway’s lungs, leaving behind a sharp ache. 

She swallowed, unsuccessful at alleviating the sting.

“I did. And you were the only thing that was missing, but I thought…. I thought I was being selfish and sentimental.”  
“Explain.” 

“I thought I only wanted you because your presence in my life was comfortable, because I wasn’t ready for the change and asking you to stay with me would be preventing you from doing what was best for you and would limit your growth and progress.” 

“This world is a frightening place. I have difficulty navigating and adapting. I would rather grow with you, if that would be acceptable. Please. Please let me stay.” 

_No matter how hard she squinted, blinked, or stared, her surroundings remained soft and out of focus. Her mind felt much the same way._

The older woman could identify the signs of Seven still being under the influence of heavy medication. It broke her heart, witnessing what was under all the raging anger and soul-hardening vengeance. 

“I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” Janeway linked her free hand with Seven’s.   
  
“Please.” Her voice childlike and full of fear. “Take me with you.” 

The semi-lucidity didn’t last long, and her overtaxed, drugged mind whisked her back off to a dream world where the captain could not follow.   
Only now, instead of a bizarre, surreal metaphorical nightmare, it replayed a memory in painful gritty detail.

((***))

_It wasn’t enough._   
_Not anymore._   
_Rougher, harder, less caring._   
_It never lasted long enough, either. The numb limbo. The tempting taste of oblivion._   
_She wanted brutality. An insatiable craving to punish herself and the circumstances that led her here._   
_She needed this to hurt enough to get through the next day, just enough lasting effect to allow her to be mediocre at her job._

_Chakotay was pissed._   
_But she needed him to be._   
_He was taking out his frustrations and it was delicious. Maybe tonight, she would finally be anywhere but here._   
_He despised her for how she discarded him, how she would never be his except for this, how she refused him and his proposals. Though if he were honest, he never loved her. He’d never even deluded himself into thinking that he did. She was aware that she was a pawn and a plaything to shut Kathryn up._

_He intended to make her regret it. But didn’t care if that resulted in her wanting him or hating him._   
_Either way, he was dedicated and determined in his path to ruin her._

_Her composure fueled him with bitterness. Her grimaces and cries of agony encouraged him, rewarded him with callous delight._

_She wants dangerous? She shall have it._

_****_   
_Faster and faster her heart beat, a wild, erratic metronome, an ominous tick echoing louder and louder as each thrust carved out and emptied bits of herself to make room for the hollow space where she could store her growing shame._

_Release did not bring relief._


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this was unplanned but kinda sort of just... unfolded. I've always been of the opinion that Tom and Janeway had a very sibling-esque relationship, and he was always supportive of her and Seven.

Devoid of thought after the rough rawness of their conversation, she absorbed the sight before her.  
Sleep had claimed Seven again, and for that, she was appreciative, but she stayed sitting on the bed, holding the ex drone’s hand, an attempt to ward off nightmares, even though she knew she was the catalyst for much of them.

The door chimed.  
“Come in.” She softly accepted their request to enter.

Tom walked in, looking a little haggard.   
“Hey.” His greeting barely above a whisper. “Doc sent me here just to get a couple readings to make sure the work we did is sticking.” 

Janeway bowed her head once in acknowledgement. 

“Has she woken up yet?”   
“Briefly.”   
“How was she?”  
“Mostly incoherent, a little bewildered.”

He unsheathed the tricorder and quickly made adjustments to silence it. A courtesy to the sensitive patient, and began his scan.   
As he moved the device over her, a readout made him pause, so he backtracked and passed it over the spot again.   
Same result.   
A third time.  
No change.  
He checked the calibration and tried a fourth scan, then the reason for the strange reading dawned on him. 

“You gotta let go.”

Janeway’s eyes rapidly snapped up at him, flashing with angry fear. She wasn’t letting Seven go for anything. That was Chakotay’s line once upon a time and following that advice led to this sordid tale. And if Tom’s words meant something else… well, she would wrestle Death with her own bare hands for Seven’s life. 

He could see the swirling protests in her darkened blue gaze and realised what caused the confusion, and quickly diffused the growing anxiety.

“Your hand. You need to let go of hers for just a moment. It’s messing with the sensors.” He gently explained.

“Oh. Sure. Of course.”

She reluctantly loosened and released their meager point of connection.

He waited a few beats for the energy to dissipate and resumed gathering the readings. 

“There we go, that makes more sense. Good news is the repair we did to this arm is adapting to the restructuring of the tubule port and sensor nodes.” 

“And the bad news?”

“There isn’t anything major in that department. It’s going to take her a few days to get back on her feet. Doc can replicate and infuse her with nanoprobes to help move the process along, but there’s still not much we can do that would result in instant improvement. Looking at the earlier scans myself, I honestly don’t know how she was still upright, other than the fact that she’s as stubborn as…” 

“You weren’t going to say as stubborn as I am, were you, Mr. Paris?”   
The barest hint of a twinkle in her eyes and the smallest twitch at the corner of her mouth touched his heart. He couldn’t remember the last time she engaged him in playful banter. 

“I was, ma’am.” 

She gave him a faux warning scowl. 

“But then I realised that would be a ridiculous statement, and give you extremely unfair credit.”

“Oh? Please enlighten me with your newfound revelation.” She crooked her finger over her chin and narrowed her eyes at him, ready to study his explanation.

“Yes, you see, I believe everyone on board Voyager during those initial 7 years was gifted with levels of obstinance that could rival your own profuse stubbornness. Letting you hog the spotlight in that department just doesn’t seem fair.” He feigned injustice.

This almost felt like old times. Like the scent of something that invokes vague fleeting memories and feelings, a rushing gust filling and surrounding, then gone, leaving behind minimal evidence that it even passed through. 

“We haven’t had a chance to catch up since you left for Earth. How’s Mom?”   
Janeway cringed, knowing she should have been better about contacting home, but… 

“Doing pretty well. B’Elanna, Miral, and I stayed there for 3 weeks. She’s got 4 of her wayward strays right now. 2 are applying to Starfleet Academy. The other 2 just arrived during our visit. The farm is all set for Spring. She’s still as sharp as ever. Misses you, though. I was instructed to have you call her.” 

…”Yeah…”  
Janeway stood, realising she could probably use a fresh cup of coffee.   
“You want anything?” She gestured to the replicator. 

“No, I….” He gave his denial a second check. “Actually, I’d kill for a rootbeer.” 

They settled on the sofa, keeping Seven in view, and exchanged some stories about the recent events in their lives. 

****

“She did WHAT!?” Tom exclaimed in a hushed whisper, eyes wide in shocked disbelief.

“Really. They challenged, she countered and upped the stakes and difficulty, then they pushed for a higher level of skill with a few unexpected psychotic obstacles and she wiped the sector with them.” Janeway relayed the story of Naomi’s shuttle race against a group that thought they had her easily beat. 

The corners of his eyes wrinkled. “I always knew she was going to be a badass pilot.”   
“Oh, you did, huh?”  
“Yes, from the very first time Seven and I took her out and let her lay in coordinates and guide the Flyer back to Voyager and she went a step further, nonchalantly docking it in the shuttle bay, first attempt, no adjustments.”  
“When did this happen?”  
“Somewhere between looking for deuterium and the whole ship being eaten by a giant space monster.”  
Janeway quirked an eyebrow. “And just how many times did you secretly let a child fly a Federation vessel around an unknown quadrant of the galaxy?”  
“Well, I think it’s paid off quite well, wouldn’t you say?” He deflected the question and punctuated his own with a big swig of the soda.  
“Mmhm. Only now, the Side Quest’s emergency shuttle needs some hefty repairs.”   
“Yeah, she said Side Bitch was having some trouble. I told her we could take a look at it after our shifts are over tomorrow.”   
Tom’s nickname for the small craft always made her shake her head, the crew had great fun with it, though, especially when they forgot its real name, The Rune, and away mission hails turned into sarcastic innuendo. 

They both got quiet for a few moments. 

He felt her eyes on him, and when he shifted his gaze from the bottle upward, he was caught in her uncomfortable scrutiny. She was seeing something invisible, beyond and beneath the veneer of who he thought he was. 

Moisture gathered on her lashes and she tilted her head, a grin causing droplets to fall, sprinkling her cheeks with an emotion he couldn’t place. 

“What?” He observed her suspiciously.

Her grin only grew into a lopsided smile.

“Seriously. What?” His voice cracked. 

“I am so proud of you.” 

He swallowed and straightened in the suddenly heavy atmosphere, his brow furrowed, unable to process this approval. He shook his head, trying to brush it off. 

“I am. You have grown into a remarkable man, husband, father. Kind, compassionate, driven. Worthy of looking up to, aspiring to follow in the footsteps of. I am proud to have witnessed your journey and walked some of it with you.” 

She had only noticed the edges of it before, but now, taking the time to regard him, everything she knew was under there all those years ago was finally shining through with a wonderful brilliance. 

They had pretty much grown up together, their families being well acquainted long before they were born. She thought of him as a little brother and the feeling was irrefutably mutual. They sensed something kindred in each other and had helped each other through the trials and tribulations of life. 

He looked back at her with the same open searching, inviting the connection to reach out between them and be felt in its full capacity.  
She’d stood up for him, defended him. One of his first memories was being a scrawny little kid with a scrappy attitude, desperately wanting to fit in with the older crowd.

_He’d made a fool out of himself and was laughed into a red-faced heap. But it didn’t end there. He tried to make a comeback and through the flaw of the cruelty of childhood, his opponents took things too far and his attempts to stifle tears only provided them more fodder._  
_Until, that is, his saviour arrived in the form of a whirling dervish, flying out of nowhere and tackling the leader. He watched in stunned awe as she proceeded to give them a swift dressing down and make threats he didn’t yet understand._  
_She’d then straightened her shirt, brushed off the dirt and turned to him, clasped his forearm and hauled him to his feet._  
_“You good?” she asked._  
_He nodded, still feeling defeated._  
_“Alright then. Grab your bag, your book, and let’s go.” She bent and picked up the action figure they’d destroyed and fiddled with it._  
_He did as he was told, though with posture slumped and downcast puffy eyes, he trailed at her heels._  
_“Stand up straight.” She murmured to him. “They’re watching. Don’t let them win.”_

_And to a 4 year old boy, it was the greatest thing he could have heard from one of the ‘big kids’ - that he hadn’t lost yet, he still had a chance._  
_He lifted his chin, straightened his spine and looked up at her with a powerful hopeful innocence. And she looked back down at him, an approving smile stretched across her face, eliciting one to mirror it on his own._  
_His little legs had to work extra hard to match the stride of her brisk pace as they walked away._  
_“Can we fix him?” He inquired, a little out of breath, glancing at the broken toy._  
_She placed her arm across his shoulders and squeezed. “I believe we can.”_  
_He beamed, a giant grin and faithful gaze, he skipped with excited appreciation, and hugged the book to his chest._  
_“That was one of my most favourite books,” she said._  
_“Mine too!” His delightful glee could hardly be contained, and launched into an animated tale about it and his own versions of the plot._

Over the years, their roles had traded off positions in circumstances with varying levels of harrowing. 

Both of them with their own quirks that landed them in some of those situations, and talents that got them out.   
She advocated for him, stripped him from his ego, protected him, and pulled his head out of his ass when he needed it.  
He did the same for her.   
And once, during an away mission gone so far awry that the log still remained level 10 locked, he draped his jacket over her bare shoulders and murmured to her the words he remembered from all those years ago. “Stand up straight. They’re watching. Don’t let them win.” 

  
They stayed in silent reverie for a moment longer.

  
“B’Elanna’s beatings have served me well. Sometimes she even feeds me.” He had to break up the dense seriousness of what they were feeling, before they embarked on reminiscent roads that were best left behind them, for now. 

“She is good for you. Hell, you two are good for each other!” She knew he understood the insinuation behind her playful tone. “I’m glad, grateful, that you have her.” 

“Me too.” Tom smiled, also filled with thankful feelings about the woman he was able to do life with.

The gravity of weighted emotions apparently was reluctant to release its hold on them, and he added, softly, “I wish you were able to have Seven all this time, too.”

He’d seen it, he had recognised the ineffable thing between them, how it made both of them come alive. He even tried confronting Chakotay after the smug senior officer took Seven away, their conversation devolving from slightly civil debate to an almost physical brawl. 

Janeway’s regret over what could have been, choked her, so she nodded her sincere agreement. 

Shoving off from the table, he stood and enveloped her in a massive hug, knowing the comfort he could offer was minuscule, but he held her tightly and swayed in a soothing rhythm. 

“Can we fix her?” she said into his chest, glancing at the broken woman across the room. 

He squeezed a little harder.   
“I believe we can.”   



	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I updated a note yesterday on the other long story I've got going, but figured I'd put a little disclaimer here too. I'm hoping the writing doesn't suffer too terribly, but I've had a nasty headache that is refusing to release me for the past few days now. If something isn't making sense, or if I've flubbed one too many lines, please let me know. Once my vision clears up and thoughts cooperate instead of scattering, I should be back to posting regularly. 
> 
> When writing the Icheb flashback, for some reason, I could hear his voice in my head, narrating it. I'm not sure if that will change the way it reads or not, but just tossing it out there.

Seven was lucid for the first time in 2 days.  
B’Elanna came to explain what they had come up with as a current solution to the damaged spinal assembly and perhaps get some information on how they could best proceed with the endeavour. 

“Are you going to tell me how that happened? Or am I going to have to live with my speculations?”

The anger was back now that the loopy meds had mostly worked their way out of her system, and the forced immobility wasn’t helping keep it in check. Air rushed in rapid spurts through her nose. “I’d prefer that you resort to the latter.” She knew the odds were low of B’Elanna’s imagination coming up with an accurate depiction of just how wretched the real story was. Speculation was safer.

The chief engineer sat by the bed and waited until Seven gave her the courtesy of eye contact. 

“Do you wish to discuss something else?” indignance accented the words.  
“Yes. You need to stop this.”  
“Stop what?”   
“Neither of us are stupid, Seven. You know what I’m referring to. You need to let go of your vengeance.”  
“Coming from a half Klingon, that’s a bit hypocritical.”  
“Maybe, but I understand how hard it is to unburden that simmering rage and self punishment."

"But I need to be punished."

"You are. By your conscience." 

“But I killed people."

“Yes, you did.” B’Elanna said in a tone that let her know she wasn’t excusing the atrocities, and she went a step further, not to heap guilt, but to drive home the fact that things were not going to be magically fixed overnight, if ever. Sweet sunshine and happiness were a multiverse away. “And you didn’t do it honorably. Most of them were terrible people, Seven, I’ll definitely give you that, and the galaxy is probably better without them in it, but taking - ending - a life just because you deem it is owed to you… isn’t justice. It’s straight up murder. You know there are fates worse than death. There were other options you could have considered. But you chose not to because you didn’t want to be stopped. You were surviving off your anger and you liked it because it meant you didn’t have to feel anything else.”

Seven rolled a shoulder, the truth B’Elanna spoke twisted inside her. She balled her fist, wanting to feel that surge of electricity. That habit was born out of necessity, though eventually had been welcomed as part of her daily routine. She found herself looking forward to the relief it offered. The physical pain temporarily numbing the mental anguish. Once she stopped using sex to punish herself, this, in addition to eliminating people that deserved termination, had become the go-to pain reliever that she could justify. She resented the fact that she LIKED it. She resented the fact that she couldn’t… shouldn’t... do it anymore.

Stupid, reckless, illogical. But it worked.

She was disturbed by the lack of pain and ever-present fatigue. Or rather, more disturbed by what she found in its place. Nothing. She looked inside herself and saw a barren wasteland of nothing.

She wanted her faux-fix back.   
“I didn’t ask you to help me.” She couldn’t stop the small cringe that followed her scathing tone. B’Elanna had always been absolutely candid with her and it was a trait she had come to cherish in their friendship. She didn’t deserve to be a target for misplaced rage.

“No. Janeway did.”

“I don’t need her.”

The slightly out of place response fed B’Elanna a hint of where Seven’s psyche was sitting.  
“No one said you did. But there’s a reason you’re here and it’s not just because you wanted an easy way out from being vaporised by a firing squad of security guards.”

Their eyes met once more after Seven’s mind took a moment to digest the meaning behind the words.   
“Perhaps.”

“You’ve got a family here waiting for you whenever you’re ready to come home.”   
And with that, B’Elanna left.

********

Seven laid in bed, that promise of family haunting her. She had nothing better to do than visit the graveyard of her past. 

Seven’s descent into who she had become began long before Icheb’s death. 

_He was completing his third year at the Academy and they were having a regularly scheduled weekend together. For some reason, he had swung the topic of discussion to Janeway._

_“Please, Seven, go to her.” His signature short cadence, but smooth gentle tone slipped past her careful defenses._  
_“I do not wish to have her as part of my collective any longer.”_  
_“That’s not true. You need her.”_  
_“You are incorrect. I do not require her presence for survival.”_  
_“I think it is you who is in error. You’ve already started to slowly die.”_

_She knew he could see the shadowed hollows in her eyes, sense them from her voice, but chose to disregard his concerned statement as frivolous._  
_“I am functioning within perfectly normal parameters.”_

_She was shutting him out and it hurt, but he straightened, standing tall in the face of the barricades._  
_“No. You’re not.”_

_“Why are you questioning and advising me about my personal life? Captain Janeway has made it clear that our link has been severed and I am no longer of use to her.”_

_“She is suffering from the same affliction you appear to be.”_

_Instead of denial, curiosity answered first. “Which is?”_

_“Something empty.” He could feel Seven’s exile for Janeway being extended to include him._

_Seven pursed her lips and balled her fists. He was hitting all the right nerves. Things she didn’t want to feel rose from abandoned depths. Concern, guilt. The worst of all was the hint of the bond her captain once spoke so reverently about. It flailed and poked around, looking for sore spots to jab so perhaps it could get its way and she would go find the one thing it was meant to plug in and connect to. It feared death. It was in denial over the fact that death is exactly what Seven wished upon it._


	19. Chapter 19

****

“How much longer do I have to be confined?” The sour distaste at her predicament was palpable in the air. She went from warrior to invalid in less than a week. 

Janeway smirked, knowing she would be voicing the same sentiment if she were in that situation.   
“B’Elanna explained things to you?”   
“Yes.”   
“You have the extra charged vest?”

Seven lifted it to show her.

“If you go put that on, get dressed and have breakfast, I’ll find a little something for you to do.”

Seven cocked her head, assessing the offer and almost admonished Janeway for treating her like a child. The stipulations were juvenile and unnecessary, but somewhere inside of herself, she grinned back warmly. 

“Does that ‘little something’ involve leaving the room?” Suspicion made her pause.

“Get going and you’ll find out.” Janeway’s eyes flickered with an affirmative and that fleck of warmth and familiarity inside Seven grew with the acknowledgement that she could still interpret the unspoken expressions. 

****

Janeway found Seven’s abilities to be acceptable, though she could decipher a twinge in her step and more than a hint of tiredness in her limbs.

“Tom and Naomi are working on trying to salvage The Rune, your expertise may prove useful, if you’re comfortable with that. I have to call home, and unless you want my mom dissecting your soul with her special little talents, you might opt for being in the shuttle bay.”

Seven made her decision, and took her orange juice to go.   
“Please tell Gretchen that I hope she is doing well.”   
She startled herself, unsure where that had come from. _Icheb,_ her heart whispered. Internally, she scoffed at the notion.

Janeway smiled and escorted her to the door.  
“Take it easy and be back in 2 hours. I won’t tell the Doctor, but he should know by now that his top 3 difficult patients don’t do well in captivity and the more he scolds, the harder we fight back. Last time B’Elanna was on rotation, she cut off power to sick bay because he was holding her well past the time she thought was necessary.”

“He is very… thorough.” Seven said in agreement of the Doctor’s trait that was both endearing and annoying. “I shall return in 2 hours.” She took a step forward and halted, then in a signature move of uncertainty, she turned her head so the side of her face was visible to her captain. “Thank you.” She said to the floor before looking over her shoulder to see that it was received, then sharply continued her previous trajectory.

****

“She’s having a little trouble shifting. I had to manually bring her from impulse to warp.”  
“You’ve given her a real beating. I think she’s having a little trouble staying upright, nevermind shifting. What level of hell did you put her through?”   
“All of them. Thrice.” She answered proudly.  
“What happened here?”  
“Small collision with another shuttle while navigating a minefield of gravimetric eddies. Shields were at 13%.”  
“SMALL collision?”  
“Only rolled once before being able to use the pull from the eddy as an opposing force and righted her to continue and charge ahead, so yeah, small.” Naomi’s smile twinkled in her eyes.  
“Niiice.” Tom congratulated her with a high five. It was a trick he taught her, and certainly not an easy one, to be able to calculate the amount of thrust needed from the opposite side of the craft almost instantaneously and apply it mid roll before being sucked in.

As they rounded to the back of the shuttle, he pointed to a section of charred hull.   
“And what’s responsible for that one?” 

“You might have heard of this natural phenomenon. Some folks this side of the galaxy refer to it as ‘Insaneway’.”  
“Ah, so not you. Different redhead.”   
“Yup.”

“What did she do?”  
“Surprisingly, this time, nothing much other than cutting through a Ranger-patroled area. … Turns out they’re not fans of Starfleet.” Sarcasm sprinkled her tone.

“Who woulda thunk it?” He said with an unamused ‘no kidding’ expression. Granted, he had joined the Maquis himself in his younger years and had many qualms with Starfleet, faulting the organisation for not being perfect and flawless, but as he got older and gained experience, especially after his time in the Delta Quadrant, he began to understand much of their reasoning, and why they made the decisions they did, even if he still disagreed with some of them, pragmatism was what kept the Federation operational and, most of the time, strong and safe.   
The Rangers, though, while they began with a noble mission, after 17 years, were starting to get out of hand and break down into extreme groups, instead of working together with Starfleet to establish and maintain neutral zones, they went rogue.   
He had sat up with Miral many nights, discussing the unanswerable questions like why her friends that had known her and her family for years cut ties and labeled her as a fascist, among other things, once they joined the Rangers’ cause. 

“Let’s start from the inside and work our way out. I’m sure there are wires and relays that need to be tended to in there, then we can repair the hull and power drain on the shielding. “ 

****

Lying underneath the conn, Naomi handed Tom a tool and watched his expert knowledge flow from his brain to his hands. Her mind briefly flickered to Icheb, and that little empty spot inside her reserved for only him twinged. 

“How is Seven?”

Tom looked at her, surprised she asked.   
“Last I saw, she was still out cold. But last I heard, B’Elanna was bringing her the spare vest and information on how we’ve adapted her implants.” 

“How bad was it? The damage?” she asked with morbid curiosity.

“I’m not gonna lie to you, Naomi. It was pretty damn awful.” He took a breath to soften the thought of what waited for him on the surgical bed the other day, but knew it could hardly be compared to what Naomi was faced with the night the science vessel she accompanied her mother on responded to the ‘officer down’ call Seven had placed using Icheb’s commbadge before leaving his mangled body to save herself.  
He wasn’t sure if he could have handled seeing that kind of traumatic carnage at 16 years old, no matter how tough he pretended to be. 

“The last time Icheb and I spoke, he was worried about her. …. I miss him.” 

“I know, kiddo.” 

“I miss Seven too, but…..” 

“You don’t know if you can let her back in.”

“Yeah… I want to, because she means so much to the captain… and to Icheb, but I’m not sure it’s possible. I don’t want to blame her, but I do. I can’t help it."

The choices she made hurt him, and ultimately contributed to his death.

"He and I asked her to come back so many times. He hung onto hope longer than I did, but that’s one of the things I loved most about him. When everyone else ran out of reserves of anything positive, or was ready to give up, he was right there and ready to share and encourage us to press on. I hate how whenever I bring up a good memory of him, the sight of his body in that slaughter lab comes crashing through and destroys it.” 

Tom regarded her, absorbing what life had transformed the starry-eyed little girl into. She kept as much of Icheb inside of her as she could, but was not unchanged by the crap hands the universe had thrown her...

  
****

The dread of realising that Naomi had witnessed the same nightmarish scene she did pulled Seven into view of the doorway. 

“You saw? You saw him after?” Seven’s fingers desperately gripped the threshold frame, trembling with effort and emotion. 

Naomi’s eyes shot up to meet hers and their shared grief collided between them, the powerful shockwave knocking Seven backward. 

She had to run, had to get out of there. The repercussions of her existence were far too great to allow her to continue. She stumbled in reverse, her sense of body awareness and direction had fled, leaving her only with the white noise of this new discovery waking the voices of her conscience, groping, stabbing, screaming at her in beratement. 

Naomi dashed out of the shuttle bay and down the hall toward the disoriented woman. Without logical explanation, she suddenly found herself feeling 5 years old again and she flung herself at Seven, wrapping her arms gently, but securely, around her. Her big sister, her Kadis Kot partner, her friend … her family. 

Seven stood stiffly, her hands in the air, unwilling to return the hug.   
No, no, no. She didn’t deserve this bridge to forgiveness. She struggled against the hold Naomi had on her.   
“Stop.” she commanded weakly. “Release me. Please.”  
Panic and disgust with herself surged.   
“Let me go!”  
The head against her chest shook its refusal. 

Seven’s hands lowered to Naomi’s shoulders and tightened. Hard. She shoved the younger woman away and took off, disappearing around the corner. 

Tom strode up behind Naomi and put an arm around her. She turned into him and sniffed back thick tears before allowing a sob to escape. 

"I'm sorry, kid."

****


	20. Chapter 20

****************  
“Did you get her?”   
Janeway sighed through a smile. They hadn’t even said hello. The second the screen chirped on and opened the communication, this was the greeting she received. 

“You did!”  
“Yes, Mom.”  
“Good.”

“You met her only a few times 20 years ago.”  
“I’m well aware, dear.” A small accusatory bite wove into the response.

Kathryn ignored it, as she had expertly perfected over the years.   
“So Tom tells me you’ve got a couple new recruits.” 

“Where is she?”  
“Mom!”   
“What?! Indulge me. I’m old.”  
“And yet, you refuse to grow up.”  
“Damn right.”  
“She’s helping Tom and Naomi repair an emergency shuttle.”  
“Naomi! How is my grandbaby?” Gretchen had been thrilled when Icheb and Naomi entered her life. The woman was made of abundant love and once she chose someone as family, they had no option but to accept it. Sam Wildman was more than happy for Naomi to have a grandmother, and couldn’t imagine anyone better to add to her child’s extended kin.

“She’s doing fairly well. Having Seven here seems to have rattled her a bit, but she’s taking it in stride.”  
“Which brings us back to Seven. Are you going to fill me in?”   
“There’s not much to say. She’s pretty messed up. I don’t know where we are yet.”   
“With you is the best place she could be.”  
“I don’t know how you’re so sure of that.”   
“Instinct.”

Kathryn shook her head. She must have used that exact word a dozen times when people asked her why she was certain Seven deserved trust, deserved a chance at redemption. She left the entire ship and safety of the crew solely on Seven’s shoulders for a month and Chakotay balked at the idea. The only reasoning she had? Instinct. Intuition.

“I know you’ve felt it, Katie. It’s a long treacherous road, but you’ll bring her home. I expect to see both of you on this porch soon.” She offered one of her encouraging secret smiles and sage wisdom glittered in her eyes, the sun glinting off her silver hair made her look like a magical creature, surrounded by orbs of mystique and legend. 

An explosion of sound from the adjacent room interrupted her thoughts.

****  
“Seven?” Janeway called gently through the closed door.

She’d stopped herself from barging in, wanting to at least give the other woman the courtesy of privacy. Verbal silence met her, but the pounding of feet and objects blasted her ears. 

“I’m coming in.” She didn’t bother to ask if it was alright, her mind tripped over itself in frantic worry. Seven hadn’t been gone for more than 20 minutes and she couldn’t shake the insidious notion that this was a crucial moment that required her presence. 

****

Her feet followed a set pattern, back and forth, a straight line across the floor, hoping her thoughts would sort themselves out and follow suit. Left, right, left right. Pivot. Repeat. Slam, punch, feel the pain. Left, right, left right. Pivot. Repeat. Monster. Murderer. Die. Just die. Stop hurting people.

Kathryn watched.

Gods, how this reminded her of that precarious time so many years ago when a fragile being was disconnected from everything she had ever known, stranded among strangers in a place she did not belong.   
Only now, the stakes were a step higher.

“It’s my fault. I did it. I had to do it, but it’s still my fault.” A voice that was hardly Seven’s finally spoke out from the imminent jumbled breakdown.

*******  
“Icheb’s death is not your fault.” 

Primal grief and anguish wrenched forcefully from her gut, scraping her insides as it launched out her throat in a rough scream. “YES IT IS!!!” A sob punctuated the pain and made her gasp. Her hand clenched her chest as the heart she didn’t want reminded her it still resided there. 

Cruel taunting punishment in the form of cyclical images, immersed her in the memories, flashing, replaying, trapping her in an unending loop. The unsettling instability of his body as she tried to lift him, bones moving in ways they shouldn’t, causing parts of him to fold and collapse against her, away from her. Grotesque and unnerving.   
“It is.” The confession again, meek, not quite strong enough to roll over her lips, instead it ignited on her tongue and reversed, scorching a trail all the way to her stomach, where it gathered the power to yank her off her feet and engulfed her in the flames of her sins. She willingly slid down the wall into the waiting fire, letting it roar in her ears and blind her to everything except the horror it wanted her to bear witness to over and over again.

His eyes, full of purity and innocence, pleading with her at his graduation, begging her through the viewscreen, searching for her while she sat across a table from him. 

Janeway took half a step forward, then immediately retreated to the opposite wall, lowering herself to Seven’s level, allowing space for her to burn and offering herself up as a willing victim to the intensifying heat.

Fists clenched and released, the sticky coating of his blood still gloved her hands, oozed between her fingers, the imprint of him stamped onto her body, staining it with copper-scented blame.

“The day he… The day I…. deactivated...killed,” the right words couldn’t be found amidst the barrage of gruesome memories. She tilted her head upward, trying to contain her tears. “That day… he called. I was with Bjayzl. I was oblivious by choice. For years.”


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still haven't gotten the upper hand on this blasted headache yet and it's starting to make me feel stupid and i don't know if my words or ideas even make sense anymore. Ha. But here's a little something for you wonderful folks that have continued to read this story and leave comments and kudos and share it out around the interwebs... y'all are the best and should give yourselves a cookie, or a pancake, or garlic bread. Or an adult beverage and a bubble bath.

*******

(3 years post-return)

It wasn’t where she thought she’d be, just shy of 3 years ago.   
Conversations about hypothetical plans, should they reach Earth, had just begun. She hadn’t entertained the notion much, finding it frivolous to spend her time thinking about something that didn’t require immediate attention. When their destination seemed closer, she figured her Captain would counsel her, discuss options, give valuable input and opinion. 

And… nothing of the sort had happened.   
The Admiral arrived and everything turned into an expedited whirlwind.   
There were problems with Chakotay from the start, signs aboard Voyager that were a solid premonition of what waited for her, but as she lacked experience in this new area of humanity, she trusted him to guide her through it. 

The first year was just a long string of nights punctuated by lonely, confused, frustrated tears trailing to a silent demise on her pillow.   
The second year, her well of resolute determination to be a perfect human, to make her captain proud, had reached critically low levels, the murky remainder frozen solid by the icy winds of abandonment. Icheb was her lifeline, his zeal for living reached across solar systems and filled the collapsing chambers of her heart, which overflowed and sent the shadows scrambling from her eyes as a soft glow emanated within her for a number of days after each communication with him.

The relationship with her husband was in a pitiful state of deterioration. She had tried and torn herself apart doing so. He had ceased his efforts to be gentle, and despite everything inside her pleading for her to do otherwise, she didn’t stop him. At first, she merely accepted, then she encouraged. The only thing they had in common and willingly shared with one another was their hatred and bitter disappointment for the reality that their existences had become.

Not knowing what to do, not being able to move about the Federation with free will for another 2 of her 5 year probation as an ex Borg, she resigned to this hopeless depravity. Perhaps it would suffice as a sort of atonement for the things she had done with the Collective, and for her failure to become what Janeway had wished. Her captain was wrong about 20 years with the Borg being enough. Her captain had also left her.

And yet, as she lay disgusted with herself, beside a man that she knew was using her for nothing more than shallow, superficial satisfaction, her captain was the first thing her soul pathetically conjured thoughts of. She had shoved it aside and chained it to a dark corner, determined to subdue it, lashing it with such intense vitriol, starving it of the thing it wanted most… But still, it cried like a frightened child inside of her. It asked, pleaded, to feel the safety of a low, husky voice blanketing the air around her, coaxing her to relax, confidently speaking believable reassurance. 

A large hand draped possessively over her stomach and dizzying nausea gripped her at the wrongness of it. The friends he invited over to participate in this heinous mess lay scattered in various states of undress about the apartment.   
Unfeeling oblivion had denied her entry. This was yet another night where she failed to escape and would be forced to endure the company of herself and her thoughts. 

He wanted children, she brought up Icheb, but Chakotay desired offspring of his own. She informed him that it was an impossibility, that her body no longer contained the necessary components to conceive and carry a child, plus even if those parts did exist within her, she had no knowledge of how the Borg technology would influence a developing infant. She refused to put one at risk for the sake of selfish notions of biologic parenthood. She hoped that explanation would be enough to put an end to the topic and didn’t bother mentioning that she was not keen on the idea of being a parent, she was happy in her role as Icheb’s guardian and her position in the lives of Naomi and some young cadets she’d met as a guest instructor at the Academy. 

A few weeks later, he informed her that he’d found someone who might be able to assist them, as Voyager’s EMH was occupied until further notice.   
They would leave for Fenris in the morning.

****

The woman greeted them, explaining that she and her crew provided medical supplies and training to worlds and civilizations that didn’t have the resources to produce their own, or the knowledge to continue advancing.   
She had been a Federation surgeon, but took a permanent leave when she heard about the mission of the Fenris Rangers.   
She was known in this sector for being one of the leaders in ex Borg reclamation.

Seven observed the way she confidently commanded the space around her with ease, and those under her regarded her with a sort of loving respect, eager to be given a task of purpose, carrying out instructions without a hint of dissatisfaction. An efficient system working toward a common goal.  
That imprisoned, broken, starving creature she hardly recognised as herself looked up from its confines, trying to glimpse out her eyes, break through her chest to see this familiar scene in front of her. Perhaps she had found her captain?   
Before Seven could push it back in place and tighten the restraints, it had exposed itself.

The shards of her shattered soul - the lost little girl trapped inside a woman that was forced to grow up too fast - shimmered in her eyes, but strangely… they did so with a light of their own, retaining a small bit of life and hope, even in their severely damaged state.

An intoxicating thrill swam gleefully through Bjayzl. A delicious new challenge. She placed her hand on Seven’s shoulder, giving a small squeeze and making an offer to join her, if she pleased. To help people regain and rebuild the lives they’d lost. To lend her expertise to a worthy endeavour, even on a part time basis.  
  
Maybe this was her chance. This was her way out. Some way for her to unburden herself from the atrocities that she committed as Seven of Nine and turn Annika into someone that deserved to live, someone with more than just “beautiful ex Borg, wife of Chakotay” to her name. The rest of the trepidation she’d felt about this trip, and the original reason behind it, dissolved the moment Jay boldly stepped between her and Chakotay without acknowledging him or asking his permission and the hand slid from her shoulder to around her waist, gentle encouragement to follow along for a detailed tour of the facility as she passionately explained what they were currently working on.

Excitement was an almost foreign feeling to Seven, but as the tour completed and several stimulating topics had been discussed, her heart lightened and in concurrence, her stride nearly bounced.   
She couldn’t wait to tell Icheb, and have something positive to contribute to their conversations. Even returning home with Chakotay seemed decent. Maybe she could do this. 


	22. Chapter 22

Janeway watched the reminiscent emotions flow across Seven’s face as she told her story. That hopeful excitement, overtaken immediately by the retrospective admonishment of her foolishness. 

The captain sent herself, for whatever astronomical time this was, the same scolding sentiments of oblivious ignorance. She wished she had listened to the pleas of Icheb and Naomi when they tearfully begged her to do something instead of dismissing them as having overactive juvenile imaginations and telling them that they were just feeling protective and they missed seeing her every day. She wanted to tell Seven that she was just as much to blame for the way things turned out.  
Why hadn’t she just listened to her gut and gone to investigate? 

She feared it would be like looking for ghosts, that she would likely just collect circumstantial evidence and see things that weren’t there because she wanted an excuse to tuck Seven against her and whisk her away to where things could go back to being as comfortable as they were before. 

Her own feelings toward Seven at the time, well, even now, weren’t easily defined. She just wanted to be with her. Share life. Work alongside her. She wanted to see her smile, explore the friendships she recently established on board Voyager. She wanted to take care of her, argue with her, dive deeply, gratefully, into those philosophical discussions that always seemed to occur in the wee hours of the morning. She wanted to grow and learn with her. She felt alive with Seven. This precious gift that stepped out of a Borg alcove and made her spirit leap and dance and wave, exclaiming _“I know you! I KNOW you! You’re here and I’ve been waiting!”_  
Why had she let that be taken away?   
So much wasted time. 

They still sat across from each other, the light from a nearby star cluster casting soft illumination at the space between them where they were scattering all the jumbled, jagged and broken bits, pieces, and spare parts of their lives, some silent self reflections, some painful admissions, hoping to have enough to rebuild something solid enough to survive.

Seven took an audible breath.  
She was ready to continue her story. Janeway’s gaze floated up, willingly joining her at this next portal to the past.   
********

Icheb sighed in delicious relief as the bed welcomed his sore and tired muscles. It had been a long week of rigorous PT and drills at the Academy.   
Graduation was on the horizon and he let wistful daydreams of a joyous future captivate his mind as his eyes drifted shut.  
The shrill beep of an incoming comm startled him out of his reverie.

He braced himself for the usual lifeless visage that had greeted him at the other end of the comm lately, but as the screen turned on, what he saw made his smile pull him up straighter in the chair.   
She looked… better. Not cured of her emptiness, but… better. She was animated as she told him about her recent trip and accepting an offer to assist with ongoing rescue efforts in the Qiris Sector. 

He was thrilled to see her happy for something in her own life, as their recent meetings had liberally doused his mind with concern. His stomach clenched as he replayed the disturbing recollections.   
Something was going on and she had been keeping things from him. It started with a change to her gait. Sometimes she appeared to hold herself more gingerly as she moved. Then he would catch her trying to hide abrasions, small contusions. Under his scrutiny, he noticed little moments where it seemed like she went somewhere else, her focus was off.  
If he confronted her, she would dismiss his inquiries and change the subject to ask him about the events that occurred around him since they had last spoken.  
He tried to ask Chakotay if he knew what might be contributing to the increasing oddities, but the Commander was less revealing than Seven, and over time, he seemed less and less fond of the boy.

"I am glad you've found something that you can enjoy doing." He said with complete sincerity. 

****

Graduation came and went. Seven was unable to attend, citing an excuse that was unnecessary because they both knew what the real reason was… Janeway. The newly minted Admiral was going to be there. It was agonising for him. He didn’t understand this divide . They had never fought, or had an argument that would cause such a schism, but yet seemed to avoid interaction any time it was a possibility. 

Seven was who he considered to be his closest family. She was responsible for saving his life, for giving him a chance at the one he was living now. And he absolutely loved, with an intense hunger, the path he had embarked on. He just wished they could all share that together. 

Seven started choosing more time away with Jay and the Fenris Rangers, and as the years passed, her arrangement with Chakotay eventually dissolved.   
Neither one were upset at finally being able to wash their hands of the other. It was contentious and unhealthy even in the best of times.   
  
Icheb pursued his Starfleet career. Under the guidance of Janeway and Tuvok, but mostly his own merit, he made Lieutenant in just under 4 years. 

Whenever Icheb had time or was able to take a short leave, he assisted the Rangers, to be closer to Seven, and to fulfill his own desire to help newly liberated individuals. And secretly, though he didn’t want to admit it to anyone, or even himself, he wanted to keep his senses out for anything suspicious. There were flitters of foul play at the Academy from people who had friends or family participating in the efforts.

** 

Icheb didn’t like her, and said as much when Seven let him accompany her to an establishment on Freecloud that Bjayzl organised the distribution of supplies out of, but requested that he no longer address her as Seven, despite allowing it for him and Naomi before meeting Jay. It was a change he found difficult to adapt to. She was always ‘Seven’ to him, and to the rest of their Voyager family, except for Chakotay. ‘Annika’ was someone else. Someone fragmented. More of an idea, a partially written character, than a person.

From the information Seven gave him, Jay worked a courier business and was supposed to have experience in Borg technology, and connections that worked with ex drones to help them adjust to life outside the collective and support their implants, should anything malfunction or be rejected by their biologic bodies.

Seven accused him of being paranoid when he asked her to be careful, confessing that something didn’t seem right. He had no evidence to support his feelings and accepted her explanation on the surface, but there were days when he could not ignore the nagging barbs of intuition that begged him to uncover the subterfuge he knew was costumed by fancy dresses and an enigmatic smile.

His contact with Seven faded. She seemed happy enough, or at least happy for him, and allowed him to carry the majority of the conversation with updates about his job and life, and discoveries in this new-to-him quadrant. Annika had rudely wiggled around and edged out most of the space once filled by Seven. Where the original occupant went, he had no idea, but every time he saw her, she seemed more and more a figment of his imagination.   
She had become careless, distracted. He had to repeat himself twice when he told her that he and Naomi had started dating.

“That’s nice, good for you,” she had said, looking off screen, the object of her attention revealed when a manicured hand reached into view and brushed strands of hair off her cheek. In all of their recent communications, Jay had been there. In the background, chin over Seven’s shoulder, voice floating from another room, or her legs in Seven’s lap. 

“I am sorry to have interrupted you. I’ll be going now.” His heart crumpled as he ended the transmission, the connection cutting out, and screen going black before Seven finished a low giggle and realised what had happened, uselessly calling “No, wait!” to the device.

Her remorse was quickly swallowed by Bjayzl’s heady aura.

*******

Limp and pliable under Bjayzl’s ministrations she greedily absorbed the comfortably numb haze that promised to take her away from everything, to anoint her with the blessing of forgetting. 

She paid no mind to the fact that she was really seeking forgiveness and there was at least one person willing to give it to her… One person who always freely gave it the moment his face appeared on the screen.   
Forgetting, even pretending to, was easier. It required no apologies, no organisation of thought, no social rules.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing coherent long stories is *hard*.  
> One more (hopefully not too clunky) chapter after this one of filling in the backstory and then we can move on with the adventure. I did toss in this little scene between Janeway and Seven, because Janeway being reserved, but maternal, and totally silent about it was one of my favourite aspects of the character and the abundant nonverbal communication floating around them makes the world a better place.

Six weeks went by before he tried opening another communication with her.   
He had gotten his first assignment as a Lieutenant and wanted to share the news with Seven, hoping she would be proud, hoping she would gain some joy from his accomplishment, because after all, he considered part of the credit hers to rightfully celebrate.  
The story played out much the way it had before, but this time Seven was not only distracted, her words were slow, loose, her face flushed. 

“Icheb!”

“You are not well.”  
“I… I feel… fine.”  
“Are you drunk?”  
“I do not recall the alcohol. Hhhmf! Alcohol recall.” Her clearly impaired mind found the words amusing.

“She’s fine, child. Annika is free to do as she pleases. Why don’t you run along and get back to playing Starfleet with your entitled little friends now, yeah?”

“Be nice, Bjayzl.” Seven’s limp hand lifted and flopped into her girlfriend.

“Sev - Annika *is* my friend. She’s my family.” Icheb defended. It was the first time Bjayzl had openly spoken with contempt for him. She’d involved herself in his conversations with Seven over the past 4 years, occasionally asking him questions, feigning interest, but was never outright mean. 

“It appears that I have interrupted again. Please let me know of an appropriate time to contact you to avoid these occurrences in the future.”

*******

Seven’s speech had slowed and her breath was slightly laboured and uneven. It was more than just the emotional effort of rehashing the past. Janeway’s astute gaze picked up on the faint red glow of the indicator light coming from underneath the collar of Seven’s sweater. 

She held her finger up and stood, shuffling to the charging dock by Seven’s bed and collecting the other vest. It had only been a few hours, but she suspected the one she put on that morning drained so quickly due to the physical recovery and unexpected emotional demand the day had seen fit to bestow upon her. 

Janeway made her way back over to the spot where Seven sat, her normally straight posture slumped, head pitched forward, a curtain of tousled blonde hair hanging to hide her face in partial obscurity. She held the vest out, assuming Seven was going to take it and remain where she was, and the older woman would go back to her designated perch on the other side of the room. But… unfocused eyes lifted from the depths of the memory they were just in and found the captain’s.   
It was just a moment.  
Hardly a fraction of a second.  
Something so small and short that it could not be brought back up to ponder, for in that immeasurable moment, time stopped, and two souls tentatively offered up a thread of themselves to the other, beginning to weave their connection back together, providing strength to the faint hint of the bond they’d shredded. 

From its resting place on her knee, Seven cautiously raised her hand and Janeway understood the question. She tucked the vest under her arm and grasped the palm being presented to her, shifting her weight into the floor in anticipation of providing counterbalance.  
Seven hauled herself to her feet, pushing off the wall with an elbow and grateful for her captain catching her as the world temporarily went black and she swayed until equilibrium was restored. 

She took a stiff step toward the table and sofa in the corner, and the autonomic dysfunction made itself known again, the dizzying nausea splashed her skin with a cold sweat and her heartbeat ratcheted higher, though was ineffective at gaining the power necessary to circulate oxygen to her brain. She shut her eyes and sucked in large gulps of air. Janeway’s fingers tightened around her hand and she stepped in close, positioning herself under Seven’s arm to support her.

Once at their new destination, Janeway held the vest out again, this time with a quirked eyebrow to gesture a query on whether assistance was needed to put it on. Seven for a moment looked as if she might accept, but shook her head and sat on the sofa heavily, beginning the process.   
Janeway took off her jacket and draped it on the table, so there wouldn’t be a question about her plans to come back, and retreated through the door to her own quarters. 

**

A few minutes later, with two steaming mugs in hand, she slipped back in to where Seven waited. The fresh power source already showed some visible improvement. 

She set Seven’s drink - hot cider - in front of her and after a raise of her ocular implant, she received a nodded thanks and picked up the discarded empty device, putting it on the charger before joining the table’s other occupant. 

They allowed the silence and warm liquids to soothe the spaces in and around them for a while before Seven leaned back, holding the cup to her chest and settling into the sofa, preparing to revisit, once again, the dark roads of her story. 

****


	24. Chapter 24

_Bjayzl was charismatic, extravagantly draped in a dangerous aura of temptation, arousal. A cloak of treacherous magnetism that distracted and delighted lost souls seeking escape._   
_She was an expert at playing to the weaknesses and tells that lay at the edges of consciousness. The ones that most people weren’t even aware they had._   
_For Seven, she dangled a lure of maternal energy, reading her prey, knowing this bait was irresistible and an effective means of disguising the hook._

_The first time Seven whimpered “Mommy”, Jay knew she had her. Loyal. Faithful. … Addicted._

_Diabolic joy slithered through her. “I know, my love. It’s alright. My sweet Annika.” She crooned. Leadership, approval, someone who spoke soothingly to Seven’s fears in the private sanctity of a safe haven was more seductive than any sexual prowess. The latter was just a convenient decoration and fun asset._

*******

She’d spent the past 3 days on a recon mission with Icheb. Neither of them brought up the last video call they had, as Seven had minimal recollection of the event and Icheb didn’t want to ruin his visit by forcing a sour topic into discussion. The USS Coleman was only a few lightyears away, and he would have to return at the end of the week, but their tasks had been fulfilled and they were engaged in a game of Species Trivia while walking back to base on Fenris. Icheb’s creative vagueness had him in the lead as he described attributes of species in ways that Seven’s mind had to scramble to connect the dots for.   
Laughter announced their presence at Bjayzl’s door and they set their gear down in the hall past the threshold, continuing to carry on their heated conversation.   
“They do not!”   
“They really do! Honestly!”  
“Species 4427 does not have ear bubbles!”  
“No, but since they use their second set of ears to breathe out of like a snorkel when submerged under water, they can *blow* ear bubbles. They use their ears to *make* the bubbles.” He managed to finish his explanation with a scholarly, informative cadence before his mouth clamped and twisted around a cheeky grin and she swatted at him. 

He faked fear and dodged her hand.   
“Hey! Watch where you point that thing. Just because I possess a more complete knowledge of Borg Inventory than you doesn’t mean you need to assimilate me. You need only ask, and I’ll be happy to give you lessons. They will cost you, though.”   
The time at the Academy had nurtured his sarcastic wit, and it nearly made Seven giddy to see he had adapted so well.  
“Oh? And what’s the going rate for such wisdom?”   
“2 pizzas and a visit to the Coleman with me. I want to show you the project Naomi and I have been working on.”  
“Deal.”   
“Really?” Though now fully grown and with a hardened edge of that gritty unnamed special something that becomes a part of soldiers after training, his eyes widened in childlike surprise, appearing almost on the verge of tears - as if he were just given an impossible gift that he’d waited a lifetime for. He expected her to brush it off and laugh.  
“Yes. Really. I am curious about this secret project.”

His lower lip trembled and his chest swelled with a wave of hope too large to keep to himself, so he wrapped Seven into an enormous hug.   
“Thank You.” he whispered into her shoulder. 

At first startled by the display of affection, Seven slowly returned the hug with matching enthusiasm and was suddenly struck by how much unbridled love she had for him. Her friend, her little brother, her son… the sub-unit label didn’t matter. He wasn’t ‘close to’ kin, or ‘almost’ a relative… he *was* her family.   
A twinge of pain gripped her as she thought of the rest of that family’s members and how much she missed them, but she wrestled it away from this rare moment of true belonging. 

The moment was hastily dispersed by Bjayzl’s entrance.   
****

“There’s been reports of some pirate activity over by Daimanta. There’s a small settlement near there that we just brought supplies to, but haven’t yet set up defense for because the location seemed at low risk for threats. I’ve got all our Corsairs busy right now, they may have to wait a few days.”

“We can check it out. It’s only a few hours from here.” Seven offered. She and Icheb were tired, but a quick overnight recon wouldn’t be too taxing. Plus, the route they were required to take would bring them close enough to Federation space and the Coleman for her to make good on her promise to visit Icheb’s ship.  
“That would be wonderful, but I need you for something important. I’m sorry to just heap this on you, but there’s a new x-B in holding and no one can get near them.” Every once in a while, through their dealings with raiders, they were able to intercept black market trades and rescue ex drones that had been subject to experimentation or were en route to underground auctions. Their physical and mental states varied and the success rate was only at a dismal best of 30%, but the ones that came through made the effort less futile. Each one they lost, though, via self destruction or just grave irreversible damage, took a toll on Seven.

“I’ll go. I can bring a few more supplies, should they have already been stolen.”  
“You’re not going alone, especially if there are smugglers lurking.”  
“Zhell got in yesterday,” Bjayzl offered up one of their most experienced pilots. “He should be able to go with you, if you’re sure you’re up to it.” 

Icheb smiled. “I am happy to help. I hope that one day Starfleet will gain enough resources to be able to once again assist in reestablishing and maintaining the Neutral Zone. My friends back on Earth say there are refugees that have been accepted at the Academy and are working toward implementing a peaceful alliance in the future. It will take a number of years, but there are many looking forward to it.”

Bjayzl made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a scoff. “You were right, Annika, he truly is full of earnest hopeful vigor.”  
“He didn’t get them from me. Perhaps Mr. Neelix is responsible for bringing out those qualities.” Seven beamed proudly, and Icheb mirrored her expression, though with a humble blush spreading across his face. 

“There is a list of what they need most in the database under RDR-Settlement 118, if you would like to get those items from the main inventory and start stocking the ship. I’ll send Zhell out promptly.”  
With practiced elegance and ease, Icheb stood straighter, a brief snap to attention and a nod acknowledging his orders before proceeding to gather his pack. Though he still didn’t like Bjayzl, he was able to be respectfully civil, and didn’t want to turn the insecurity and doubt into animosity. 

Instinct wiggled up Seven’s spine, refusing to be ignored. “Wait!” she called, then went to collect items from the small kitchen.   
“I have rations.” He tried to protest as she shoved food into a bag for him.  
“Despite whatever habits your friends condone, candy and coffee are not adequate nutrition.”  
He wanted to retort that Captain Janeway would disagree with the second part of that statement, but swallowed that down before it had a chance to sully the current good energy between them It was the first time in years he had been able to see the Seven he remembered. Whether it was the mission they’d just been on together alone, or just a random occurrence… seeing that light again blanketed his heart in warmth.  
“I’m only going to be gone for a day!”  
“I’ll feel better knowing you have proper sustenance.” She finished putting together her approved food items and held the bag out.  
With a withering eye roll, he accepted. “Fine. Thank you. But we’re still having pizza tomorrow night.” He said, holding her to their deal.   
She scrunched her nose. “Yes. We are.”   
The lightness gave way to a somber serious tone as she placed a hand on either side of his face.   
“Be safe.”  
“I will.” 

She watched him walk out the door, and folded her arms around herself to dampen the surge of emotion. She didn’t deserve his unfaltering faith, nor his forgiveness for the past 8 years. If she had nothing else in this life, just knowing him, seeing the great things he was destined to accomplish, would be enough.  
Bjayzl left her perch and slunk next to Seven. “It’s adorable how attached you are to him.” She nuzzled her chin into Seven’s shoulder.  
*******

Terror. Sheer terror. The undiluted purity of it was potent. Toxic. Deadly.   
It engulfed the holding cell with all associated symptoms of long term exposure.   
Suffocation. Panic. Tormenting hallucinations. A mind overloading and unraveling. A chest burning and exploding as the internal system can’t keep up with the demand for escape.   
The air fills with the stench of adrenaline. Flailing tremors against invisible, formidable foes. 

Footsteps were coming. Voices. One recognisable.   
No. No this ends now.  
*******

A crackling flash burst up the hall ahead.   
Seven broke into a run, skidding to a halt in front of the cause.   
The individual was dead.   
Singed flesh smoldered.   
She crouched down to get a better survey of what was once a life. Bjayzl caught up and knelt next to her.   
“What happened? How?”  
“They connected to the forcefield and used it to electrocute themselves.” Seven’s voice was rough. “They had just enough vital cybernetic components left to do it.”   
Under the missing left eye, there was a mark burned into the cheek. “What’s this?”

“They’ve been auctioned. Looks like the owner’s or seller’s brand.” Bjayzl’s words almost sounded nonchalant, like she wasn’t enraged by the pointlessness of the seemingly endless hell.

Seven stood and slammed her fist against the wall. She looked down at the individual assimilated, mutilated by the Borg, then stolen, only to be further violated and shuffled around by people who made an existence with the Collective seem favourable by comparison.

Shaking her head, she sighed. “Do we have any information on them? Did they say anything that might help us contact their family?” 

“Nothing. They couldn’t, or wouldn’t, speak.” Bjayzl observed Seven’s demeanor change from angry to simply upset, and knew it would continue to drop to a needy depression. 

This wasn’t exactly how she planned the evening would go, but perhaps she could still make it work. 

*******


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still a flashback chapter. :)
> 
> It has certainly been a few moons since I've been able to post, or write. I'm sorry to leave you folks hanging for so long. All mistakes and awkwardness are mine.

“Come on, sweetheart, let’s take care of them.”   
They went through the protocol Seven put in place as a ritual for the deceased x-Bs. It was simple, but respectful. They arranged the body on the bench in the cell and Seven always gave a stroke to their heads as a mother would soothe a child, or beloved pet, give an apology for failing them, and she’d insist on waiting until a unit came to remove them, so they wouldn’t be alone.   
Bjayzl indulged the behaviour. 

With delicate reverence, Seven inspected the body, looking for any visible clues that could lead her out of the dense forest of confusion, and provide her with a path to discovering their identity, so perhaps she could offer their family some sad closure, if that family had escaped assimilation.   
Knowing is better than a lifetime of futile searching.  
“What happened to you?” She murmured to the lifeless form, committing to memory what she could see of their face that wasn’t disfigured or covered in Borg components.

They were human. That’s all she was able to discern. The removal team would catalogue the details and DNA and store the body for a time if kin were to be found.

She hadn’t realised their rapidly cooling hand was encapsulated in her own until white material floated into her peripheral vision and asked her to move.

Her consciousness seemed to hover outside herself as she watched the two medics disappear out of the cell with the deceased. 

“I’m sorry, Annika darling.” A touch of her shoulder to punctuate the sentiment would press the button eliciting a short explosion of anger. 

Olive skinned fingers met leather and the effect played out as predicted. Seven ducked away, a snarl lashed out.

Next would come a softening of blue eyes as they tore themselves from the horrific scene and peered at her, unable to contain the overflowing despair.

Bjayzl hid her grin as the child appeared from the icy depths, seeking rescue and warmth. 

The long game had been worth it. The split was well crafted, well defined, and easily manipulated. Words of comfort and reassurance were hidden command codes. Surreptitious surrender. The years of experimentation on others before her, breaking them, rearranging the pieces, had perfected the techniques, allowing trial and error and finally, triumphant control. 

The concept of Divide and Conquer, on an individual scale. 

There was no time left. Icheb was a threat to the divide. He woke parts of Annika that needed to remain sleeping. She had them both and she had them now. 

****

Back within the walls of their house, Bjayzl regarded Seven with precision. 

She shrugged off her jacket, tossing it haphazardly over a chair and paced aimlessly around the kitchen, stopping to look out the window for a moment, but seeing nothing except what was inside her own head. She shoved back from the counter and continued her march to nowhere, yanking the tie out of her ponytail, blonde strands cascading as untameable as her thoughts.   
“Jay…” a small voice drifted through the air.

Bjazyl grabbed her arm and wordlessly redirected Seven on a detour to the bedroom. 

Seven was a fugitive of forgiveness.   
After events like this, she sought punishment for failure, wanted to have control taken from her. The storm of colliding emotions too much for her to handle.   
Jay hadn’t planned on this one dying, though. She was actually just hoping to expedite the sequence in Seven’s mind that would get her to where she needed her to be, and this particular drone was chosen for reasons she had intended on making future plays with.

The cuffs were nothing new. She pushed in and pulled, the click and whine of their activation triggering the first phase of the submissive shut down sequence Jay had installed in Seven’s psyche.   
Muscles tensed, then relaxed, her expression open, trusting, and ready for instruction. 

  
_Ah, that trust._ Bjayzl rejoiced at her own accomplishment. She had worked for it. Precision and patience allowed her to have it. She wielded it carefully, yet for her own benefit. 

****

  
The static whirring was unfamiliar.   
Face down and limbs heavy, restrained.   
Thoughts were sluggish, disobedient.

“Good morning, Annika.”   
Morning?

There’s no memory, no order in which to place events and time.  
Why did …?   
Who…?   
The questions died as quickly as they could be formed, not even given a chance to reach the summit of cognizance. 

Her back… burned, though that wasn’t the correct word for the sensation.   
Her mind once again plunged into murky oblivious depths.

A PADD set down beside her. Hands she didn’t know, but that was not a concern. Like the cuffs, other participants were not uncommon.   
Her eyes rolled of their own accord, unfocused. 

But the PADD…  
At the end of the message of jumbled, swirling letters… a symbol.

Her thoughts slurred over the significance as heavy lids lazily fluttered closed. 

She was sore. She hurt more than usual.   
The agreed word to signify the desire for safe pause eluded her.

“NNnnnggghh.” Air vibrated in her throat, unable to bypass her paralysed tongue.  
“Oh it’s okay, baby.” Jay’s voice carried from behind and above her. Filtered, though. Slow, stretched out, far away. 

Fingers seemed to buzz as they made contact with her hair, tips brushing her cheek, tucking the strands out of her face.

****

Chaotic consciousness resumed, but she could not see. Shrouded by darkness, she lay discarded on the floor. 

Somehow, some reason, she was clothed again.   
This was new. 

“......transport.”

The single word was all she was able to comprehend, but it was a word that shouldn’t be part of the circumstances. 

The unsettled anxious feeling tried to rev her brain, get it to ignite and make connections. She tried to remember her previous semi-wakeful state, she could feel the table, the cuffs, see the symbol, like conspiratorial fine print on the PADD. Then the image of the xB that deactivated themselves crashed into her. The brand on their face…. It matched. It… How?

Icheb… she had been with Icheb earlier. Where was he now?   
Thoughts of him, his concerns, his pleas for her to be careful and cautious flooded through her.

She tried to right herself and open her eyes, but she was still immobile and parted lids did nothing to restore her vision. A hood covered her. 

She couldn’t find solid purchase on any train of thought. They flew by, chugging and disappearing through dense clouds. 

A scream. Muffled, but a scream nonetheless. It managed to reach her through the barriers and shake her loose just a little bit more.   
Again. The shouting made her muscles twinge with an answering shiver. 

She still couldn’t organise the chaos enough to make sense of what was happening, or what had happened. 

  
****


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...continuing the flashback and conversation with Janeway... 
> 
> It's been a while, folks. Sorry about that. I will do my best to never completely abandon these stories, as I find them incredibly cathartic to write and a way to share the world in my head with the rest of y'all.  
> My dog is recovering from major surgery and will be laid up on strict bed rest and hand walking for the next 6 weeks (a terribly hard feat for anyone that is familiar with high drive working dogs), but hopefully my shared confinement and sitting still in solidarity with her will be conducive to moving this story along. 
> 
> All clunkiness and mistakes are mine.

****

It was too much. She couldn’t continue. Waves of darkness and nausea collided within and around her, churned by pain that threatened to tear her apart if she didn’t cease moving immediately. 

She wanted to yell to him, assure him that she was coming, give him some hope that whatever they were doing to him would be over in just a moment….

But she couldn’t reveal that she had broken free yet. 

Frustration swelled and rattled against the cage her injuries and drug-laden mind imposed. Surging adrenaline did little to propel her forward. 

Fingers clawed at the wall, slipping, scraping, unable to prevent her downward trajectory. 

_ “Where’s your cortical node, buddy?”  _

Seven’s acute auditory senses picked up the distant voice and his responding cries lifted her like a puppet strung by fear, dragged along on an inevitable trip to hell. 

****

Metallic and sticky, the air assaulted her nose and throat as she scrambled through the corridors of this unfamiliar place, following the agonized, desperate screams that had finally jostled recognition into her consciousness. 

Her spine echoed those screams, and her limbs were uncooperative. She could feel sparks misfiring through damaged components, but did not dare pause to assess her injuries until she and Icheb were off this planet. 

“Bjayzl?” The vapid creature that called itself a medical professional inquired around the corner.

Seven fired, not caring what the weapon’s settings were. 

He was still breathing. They could escape, and he would be okay and she would go back to Federation Space with him. She would even stay on Earth if he requested, they would be a family, just the two of them. The wishful thoughts became frantic bargaining as the grave seriousness of his injuries burned her eyes.

****

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Janeway’s own tears glistened on her cheeks and she clenched her hands in an effort to not reach out to comfort Seven. 

“He uh…. He was alive.” Seven’s voice strained and threatened to break as she continued. “And conscious. He knew it was me.” 

It was a minuscule comfort, that he knew she came for him. He had called her name, her real name, instead of the person she was trying to be. 

“I started to lift him up, but he just… there was too much missing.” 

The unnatural feel of his body… Bones fractured, sections removed to obtain Borg technology that had become part of them. Muscles and vital organs dissected, his heart flayed and erratic, abdominal implant gone except for a few melted connection points. A third of his spine had been taken for the regeneration nodes.

“The damage was extensive. Irreparable.” 

Seven’s thumb worried the rim of the mug. Even if she had been able to immediately transport Icheb to a medical facility, there was nothing that could have saved him. This knowledge did little good, because even 13 years later, she still ran the same scenarios through her mind, searching for one that would result in proof of yet another way that she had failed him. 

  
  
////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////// 

****

“Now. Seven. Please.” 

Hope was dispensed with in that moment. 

It was like being dead while still alive. 

The temptation to press the phaser to her own heart and be done with this awful existence cajoled and coerced with sweet promises of oblivion. 

But there were wrongs only she knew of that needed to be made right.

His crumpled uniform lay discarded under the table, and for whatever reason the notion entered her mind to cover him with it. 

It came into view of his remaining eye and he squinted his approval, a smile evident in his gaze, though a grimace still clenched his jaw against the teeth chattering pain. 

How he so loved Starfleet and was everything an exemplary officer should be. Lifting his one functional arm, he nodded, swallowing a shout of agony. 

He wanted her to dress him. 

A ceremonial display, giving him the significance of belonging and being part of something he believed in. 

He bit back every whimper at being jostled. 

Seven tugged at corners and straightened hems of the jacket. Her fingers traced his well-earned pips. 

“I am proud of you.” 

He could no longer respond, all his energy was put into fighting death, for just a little bit longer. 

Seven was there. She had come for him. He wanted to live these last few moments with a conscious knowing of her presence and float in the gratitude of having been able to have the experiences he did because of her. He would have been reassimilated 8 years ago if not for her instincts and persistence. Short tragic freedom was so much better than eternal life in the Collective.

Her fingers fiddled with his commbadge, before tapping it to open a link.

“Seven to the USS Coleman. Lieutenant Icheb has been fatally wounded and requires transport. Be careful in this area of space, it is a hostile environment. There is a dispersal field around this structure, you will need to beam down outside the building.” 

This couldn’t be happening. Life had just become something worth holding onto. She had just begun to feel validation in her humanity and confidence in her future. She had been close to happy. The wounds inflicted by the loss of Janeway’s presence had begun to heal. She was on her way to whole. 

Now it felt like a dream sitting just beyond, waiting obscured by the fog, an unreachable destination, no matter how fast she ran after it. 

Something inside her detached, floating somewhere out of reach as she took in the dead and mangled sight of her only family for the last time. The good memories danced a rushed drunken waltz through her mind before shrinking and fading to an unknown place, cuing regret to smugly take centre stage. 

****

/////////////////////////////////////////

“I called to the Coleman using his commbadge. I had the option to wait and be taken back to Starfleet…”

Janeway knew there were parts of the story that Seven omitted, but she didn't dare interrupt. 

////////////////////////////////////////

****

Zhell was slumped over the helm. He had also suffered grievous harm during the ambush. Seven had always liked him. He was a quiet, confident man with a gentleness in his soul. When he did speak, the wisdom in his words made people forget how young he was. She wondered if he was just a willing sacrifice in this circumstance, or if he truly didn’t know of the real operation masquerading as a rescue project….

“Where’s Icheb?” Zhell wheezed.

Seven couldn’t say it. Her silence was answer enough, however.

Empathetic grief cascaded over his face as he processed the fate of the man he had just started to consider a friend, and the loss he knew would devastate the spirit of the woman before him, turning it into a haunted ruin.

“We got a distress call on our way back to Fenris…. It was an ambush. We should contact Bjayzl and let her know.” 

“Bjayzl ordered the ambush.”

“What?” His voice squeaked around disbelief.

“It appears that we have assisted in the auction, trade, and death of ex Borg and refugees.”

“All of it? It was all a lie? You mean all my freedom flights where I soothed anxious individuals, assuring them that they were safe… I was bringing them to slaughter?”

His fingers clutched at dark curls, trying to wrench his newly discovered sins from his skull.

“How did I not know? What do we do now? How do we live with ourselves?” 

The memory of an exhausted orphaned boy falling asleep against him shamed his ignorance.

“I.. don’t know.” Seven’s honesty escaped on her breath before she had a chance to coat it with something more palatable. 

“I cannot fully repair your injuries. I am sorry. Is this ship functional?”

“Shield generator is toast, I can maybe get us a splotchy 4 or 5 percent. Navigation is damaged, but manually operable. Environmental controls are gone in aft section.”


End file.
